


and always, with the same result

by jongdaesang (d10smessi)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Nine Lives, Lots of dancing, M/M, Reincarnation, Romance, Trope Subversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-23 12:41:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13190301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d10smessi/pseuds/jongdaesang
Summary: jongin thinks it’s fate. kyungsoo thinks it’s coincidence.





	and always, with the same result

**** jongin’s dingy motel room reeks of try-hard elegance and old person’s air freshener. the cover of his double bed is starched, looking like it’s straight out of the 70s with the faded yellow and baby pink flowers. the effect is an overall water color artwork on the cotton blend fabric. jongin would have appreciated the cheap lights if they're shining on warm skin. the thin walls would be fantastic with the reverberating sounds of pleasure.

 

the early night streams through the blinds and when he gets out of the shower, the bathroom door creaks with a slight push. he quickly wipes himself down and pulls a pair of skin tight black jeans. he debates on what to wear it with but ultimately settles for a thin turtle neck that molds itself around the thick cords of muscle on his upper body. he slicks his hair back with the gel he’s picked up from the convenience store and the comb he’s using is chipped. he runs his fingers to mess it up and sprays his favorite cologne. calvin klein smells intoxicating when it bleeds in the thrumming night of buenos aires.

 

he puts his leather jacket on and grabs only the necessities—wallet, motel room keys, and his phone. the screen is cracked on top. jongin has no case for it and he slips everything inside his pockets. he sits down and pulls his favorite shoes, italian leather pilfered from one of his close friends’ closet. he takes the rag from the bathroom and rubs both shoes clean. the convenience store has no shine to offer so jongin settles for rugged and barely put together.

 

when he finally puts the shoes on, he feels like a new person. the clothes help a bit to hide kim jongin underneath the layer of fabric. in the middle of the large buzzing city of buenos aires, he does not exist.

 

the same feeling persists the moment he walks out of the motel and into the streets. the people are friendly and he’s stopped once by a group of tourists to take their photo. jongin obliges with a polite smile and a “yes” in english. 

 

he passes by an open bar with people in football jerseys. he tries to pronounce the names but trips over the syllables. he takes a step forward, large strides on gray concrete painted with flashing neon.

 

it feels a little bit like he’s running.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

he walks and walks, a little bit aimless, a little bit not. his phone’s gps provides an alternate route that has him navigating through throngs of people before he has to disappear in tiny alleyways. he breaks out into a slow walk through a lively street as music drifts into the air alongside the sound of people's laughter. someone curses a few meters away and it’s quickly followed by quick apologies before a collective cooing sound.

 

jongin feels alone in the middle of the crowd but he ignores it in favor of finding his destination. the building looms old but its appearance doesn’t scream neglected. instead, the wears and tears to its foundation seem like testaments from lovers. when he pushes the door, the creaking sound is a welcoming hug. the sound of his leather soles against linoleum floors is the smack of a kiss.

 

the receptionist gives him a smile.

 

jongin greets her a good evening in spanish, one step ahead of her.

 

“oh,” she says, chirpy and excited. jongin notices the coffee cup on her work table and wonders how much caffeine she’s had to manage that big of a smile. “here for the tango class?”

 

jongin nods and he says simply, “yes. for one person.” he raises his index finger just to be sure.

 

the woman understands and he asks jongin for the payment. he pulls his wallet out and counts the exact amount. the receptionist beams before she shoos him to the nearest door. it’s plain with no labels but jongin has seen the multiple adverts around the city.

 

the teacher is holding a three-hour open session. the wooden floorboards are free to anyone with a breath and a thrum underneath their skin. jongin cannot hear the music but he thinks he can imagine the tremors underneath his feet.

 

he twists the door open and slips inside for a three-hour escape.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

he sees people mingling and jongin presses himself closer to the wall. people are scary—more so when he has no idea what’s coming out of their mouths. words are easier with a fake smile and a well-placed compliment. instead, jongin is stuck with his minimal spanish and body language. they’re both something he cannot use to fool other people.

 

he sees the woman whose face is the one printed on bond papers all over the city. that’s the same woman who’s stared at him from the advertisement board in his motel lobby before he finally throws caution and rationale to the wind and attends the class. she claps her hands together before she spits out rapid fire spanish. in an instant, the people talking start pairing up and jongin grabs his wrists in a nervous gesture before he rubs the tattoo on his skin.

 

jongin looks around and he assumes everyone’s getting partners for themselves. the wall clock displays 6:30 PM in digital and that’s the same time that the class is about to start. jongin taps his foot on the wooden floor and that, inexplicably, gets the attention of someone.

 

there’s a short male across the room, looking just as lost as he is. maybe he doesn’t speak spanish like jongin does. probably another escapee. jongin’s tattoo burns when the man approaches him. 

 

“hello,” the man says in clear and well enunciated spanish. “i’m not sure if we’re allowed—”

 

jongin raises his hand in the universal stop or wait gesture. he hopes it’s not some offensive slang in this man’s culture. 

 

“um—no spanish. ah. _shit,_ ” jongin slips up and curses in korean.

 

the man’s eyes widen and he brightens up. “i’m korean too!”

 

jongin feels that pull, maybe relief or happiness. finally, someone who can understand—at least, the very basic of kim jongin, who’s stuck in buenos aires.

 

“fuck yes,” he drawls out. no use trying to be polite when he’s only trying to please the man in front of him. the short male grins at that and jongin adds, “i’m so tired of stringing spanish i barely know. and i don’t want to bring my phrase book.”

 

the man grins up at him and jongin gazes down and finds himself staring at a beautiful face. now that the excitement of meeting a fellow korean amidst the size of the argentine city has faded, jongin takes in the man in flashes of images. like every blink is him taking a photograph of the sight in front of him.

 

the stranger is tiny, jongin notes, almost everywhere. he’s in a red bomber jacket and dark skinnies and his hair falls across his forehead. he seems thin underneath his clothes, maybe with the lingering softness of youth.

 

“i’m do kyungsoo, by the way,” the man introduces with a small smile. his cheeks bunch up, a little, and jongin feels warm all over. his tattoo burns under his turtle neck and leather jacket. he grips kyungsoo’s small hand and fits his around the curve and the lines drawn on the smooth palm.

 

“kim jongin,” he whispers back. cheekily, he asks, “want to be dance partners with me?”

 

kyungsoo laughs slightly. “i’m not that good of a dancer.”

 

jongin smirks down and he squeezes kyungsoo’s hand before he lets go. he lets his touch liner and the pads of his fingers leave imprints on the soft skin, like kisses from the dead. 

 

“you’re lucky,” jongin replies. “i’ve been told i’m a good dancer.”

 

kyungsoo raises his eyebrows and he steps towards jongin’s space closer—close enough that if jongin takes another step, the tips of their shoes will touch.

 

“really?” kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. jongin wonders if the man is flirting. maybe he is, it will be hard to do this in south korea but here, in the middle of a dance studio in buenos aires, no one knows who they are. no one cares except the two of them.

 

kyungsoo’s eyes drop to jongin’s lips and jongin taps the curve of kyungsoo’s hip, says, “ask the teacher. your spanish is obviously better than mine.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

the teacher gives them a nice smile and kyungsoo tells him that she launches into a small speech about equality and acceptance before letting them become partners. jongin grins as he pulls kyungsoo near the back of the room. most of the people attending are a little older—maybe in their 40s to their 60s. middle aged men and women, jongin knows, have too much money and too much time.

 

“is this your first time dancing tango?” kyungsoo asks. the teacher is explaining something in front and her assistant, another woman, is serving as her partner. 

 

“yes,” jongin answers shortly. he faces kyungsoo and asks, “do you want to lead or should i?”

 

“i’d be a bad leader,” kyungsoo chuckles. the lights overhead are incandescent, dimmed a bit to create a faux intimate atmosphere. “i’ll probably step on your feet.”

 

jongin grins. “i’ll lead then.”

 

he sets them in a flexible embrace. he holds kyungsoo’s hand in his and places his other on one of the man’s shoulder blade. kyungsoo adjusts himself and when jongin looks down, kyungsoo’s looking up at him.

 

“weird?” jongin asks.

 

kyungsoo smiles, shy and bashful. “not really. i’ve never danced this way before.”

 

“with a partner?”

 

kyungsoo nods and he averts his gaze to somewhere behind jongin. 

 

jongin doesn’t hold the man’s gaze but he tightens his hold on kyungsoo’s arm and tests the slight rigidity of their arms. the teacher starts instructing the basic 8-figures and jongin takes a step back.

 

kyungsoo follows.

 

they glide towards the center and the teacher makes them repeat the two steps. kyungsoo is still looking behind jongin’s head, to absolutely nothing.

 

jongin steps outside of kyungsoo and kyungsoo steps on jongin’s toes.

 

the shorter male gasps.

 

“sorry, jongin.” there’s a flush high on his round cheeks and jongin resists the urge to bend down and nuzzle his nose against the soft looking skin. kyungsoo radiates warmth. 

 

“no problem,” he whispers. he squeezes kyungsoo’s hand and requests, “look at me.”

 

kyungsoo squeaks but he raises his eyes to meet jongin’s gaze. it’s slow and hesitant. his eyelashes flutter and the light catches on the height of kyungsoo’s cheekbones and the curl of his thick lashes. 

 

jongin repeats, “look at me.”

 

kyungsoo does.

 

this time, it’s less shy.

 

“that’s it,” jongin praises the other man. they copy the cross step and kyungsoo finishes it with a well-placed foot.

 

in three steps, the figure is terminated.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

the tips of jongin’s toes are tingling. there’s fifteen minutes left to the class and they’ve learned mostly basics. the teacher adds a dip and a glide before everything turns heavy alongside the staccato counts of the tango music.

 

kyungsoo grows more and more confident as the night ages and jongin marvels at the conversation flowing even better than their body movements. kyungsoo has stepped on his toes and in turn, jongin has learned that the man is, in fact, older than he is. they whisper lowly amidst the claps of the teacher and the drags of shoes on the wooden floor. their breathings are drowned by the pulsating sound coming from the speakers.

 

jongin’s heart and pulse thunders. the tattoo on his wrist is warm.

 

the teacher gives them a short break while her tall assistant changes the playlist on the laptop. it turns into something closer, more sensual—the music is closer to shallow inhales and desperate exhales in the middle of something passionate. 

 

he and kyungsoo lean on the wall and watch intently as the teacher wraps the tall assistant in what they have learned awhile ago as the close embrace. the music starts as slow but the steps grow closer and closer.

 

jongin hears a hitch of breath from beside him and his gaze turns from the couple to the older man standing beside him. he sees kyungsoo looking enraptured by the performance, pink lips parted and eyes wide. he traces the curve of kyungsoo’s nose and then the way his lashes extend. the dust of the old dance studio throws glimmering crystal in the air, tiny rainbows from the refraction of the dim incandescent. 

 

jongin stops breathing for a moment. 

 

for a moment, nothing exists except the man beside him, watching two people dance like dynamic artwork.

 

jongin doesn’t even bother with the dancing in front of him, only realizing it's done when kyungsoo starts clapping and the music draws to a halt.

 

he leans in, unable to help himself. he feels his lips brush on the shell of kyungsoo’s ear and then, the older male’s shiver.

 

“do you want to dance like that?”

 

when kyungsoo turns his eyes at him, they're dark, hooded and heavy. his lashes cast butterfly wings on the fragile looking skin. his gaze drops to jongin’s lips and jongin follows the way kyungsoo’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as the shorter male swallows.

 

“can we?” kyungsoo asks, tentative.

 

before jongin can answer, the teacher claps her hand and says something that neither of them understand. afterwards, they hear her say, “free dance.”

 

jongin grins and offers his hand, says, “for you? anything.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

they choose a corner on the left side of the room. jongin sheds his leather jacket first and delight bubbles in his chest when he sees kyungsoo rake his eyes on the way the turtleneck fits every ridge of muscle on his body. jongin doesn’t hide the fact that he’s staring when kyungsoo does the same, removing his bomber jacket and leaving himself in a graphic white tee.

 

the playlist continues and jongin pulls kyungsoo in a loose embrace—their hands clasped together, his hand on kyungsoo’s shoulder blade. there’s a foot of space between them.

 

“how close?” jongin asks.

 

“closer,” is all kyungsoo’s answers. the blush is back on his pale skin and the lights make it seem like it’s illuminating. the dust settles like tiny glitters in the air.

 

jongin takes a step and asks again, “is this close enough?”

 

he sees kyungsoo swallow. the man looks up at him, confident and brave. kyungsoo licks his lower lip and jongin doesn’t miss the motion.

 

“not yet,” kyungsoo replies. 

 

jongin makes a noise on the back of his throat when kyungsoo takes the step. he feels his own cheeks flare up and kyungsoo smiles, small and private.

 

this close, jongin thinks.

 

this close and he can feel the warmth radiating off of the smaller man. every breath, every hiccup of their heartbeats—all felt underneath their palms and fingers. kyungsoo’s hand rubs a soothing circle on jongin’s back and they move a little bit, lazy and trying to feel the beat of the music. 

 

it feels like two people navigating darkness, slowly making their way to the familiarity of physical contact. 

 

they do basic steps, at first, before jongin feels kyungsoo leaning into him. the slight heel on kyungsoo’s boots make up for the difference in height. just a little that kyungsoo’s face is almost level with jongin’s. his temple presses just a bit lower, rests on jongin’s high cheekbone.

 

“there are,” kyungsoo pauses, breathes out. the heat fans on jongin’s already hot skin. “there are rules in tango, yes?”

 

jongin nods and tries hard to resist making the tips of their noses kiss.

 

“there are.”

 

“can we,” kyungsoo makes a choked noise when jongin turns them. kyungsoo lets go of their joined hands. 

 

jongin's palm runs on kyungsoo’s rib down to the older man’s flat stomach. underneath his hand, he feels kyungsoo’s breathing stop. 

 

he trails it slowly before kyungsoo lifts his inside leg. jongin twists the both of them, cradles kyungsoo close.

 

they’re face to face, close and hugging in the middle of the intimate music. the two of them stops moving, dancing to nothing at all but for themselves.

 

“can we what?” jongin prompts.

 

kyungsoo’s hand tightens just below his shoulder, digging on his bicep.

 

“can we let go of those rules?” kyungsoo sighs out.

 

jongin moves them inwards and kyungsoo crosses his legs. he catches jongin’s shin and jongin winces at the mistake. it breaks the ice—and the heat.

 

“yes,” he answers. he gains momentum and slides to the side, doing a half turn. kyungsoo’s shoes glide on the wooden floor, following him.

 

they move some more and when the music reaches a high point and the strings pull just right, jongin grips kyungsoo’s waist with his right hand and he feels the older man’s hand bracing on his back.

 

kyungsoo knows what to do and he presses his entire body against jongin’s front. his right leg hooks on jongin’s hip and jongin lifts him, twirls them around. kyungsoo switches and wraps his left leg high just at the string draws out into a slow drag.

 

jongin takes a deep breath, feels the smile on kyungsoo’s face. 

 

“the rules, jongin,” kyungsoo reminds him. “forget them.”

 

jongin nods, gulps. his hands trail low on kyungsoo’s back before it returns to its appropriate place. he feels the telltale warmth of pleasant arousal—the slow kind, undemanding. the kind that takes time, wherein pleasure builds with their pulse and the movement of their fingertips.

 

jongin trails his index finger on kyungsoo’s rib. he lets go for a bit and catches kyungsoo’s wrist. they’re moving aimlessly again as the strings of tango music ease out into something comfortable, a break in the intensity of the notes’ love making.

 

he rubs the skin of kyungsoo’s wrist, knowing that’s where the counter is. he wonders if kyungsoo’s the same as he is. with the same reckless abandon, he must be.

 

kyungsoo’s hand crawls up and catches his this time. 

 

they start moving with larger steps, striding in their corner like the world revolves around the axis of their joined bodies. jongin leans in and kisses the shell of kyungsoo’s ear. this time, it’s deliberate—slow and purposeful.

 

kyungsoo shivers under his hands and the man says, “don’t tease me.”

 

jongin smirks and leans his head away. kyungsoo chases after him, fingers now digging into the fabric of jongin’s clothes.

 

the taller male smirks. “it’s not teasing if i’m good for it.”

 

they face each other and the music is even slower. kyungsoo’s eyes are planted on jongin’s lips and jongin is faring no better. the smaller man takes a deep breath and jongin leans in, just enough to feel the slight brush of kyungsoo’s mouth on the corner of his. kyungsoo doesn’t do anything except grip his shoulder tighter—as if holding jongin together will stop kyungsoo himself from breaking into tiny pieces, splattering all over the wooden floor and disrupting the tango music.

 

they take three steps to the side and jongin recognizes the pattern of the music. kyungsoo must have too and the man grins. 

 

kyungsoo raises his right leg and hooks it on jongin’s thigh. jongin grins and chuckles low. the music drops again the same way and kyungsoo repeats the action as he giggles privately.

 

on the third time, jongin almost drops kyungsoo’s hand when the man slowly rubs his thigh against jongin’s leg. one, two, three, four beats just as jongin’s heart runs twice as fast. the air is stifling and jongin’s tattoo once again burns.

 

he places a short distance between them, turns just a bit. kyungsoo smirks and hooks his right leg high above jongin’s torso.

 

jongin looks down on the man’s mischievous face and he decides—fuck it.

 

his hand moves to hold kyungsoo’s plush thigh and the heat comes off in waves, through kyungsoo’s tight denims. he drums his fingers just a bit before he stretches his right leg and then the other, backwards. 

 

kyungsoo yelps and he wraps one arm around jongin’s neck. he hisses out a low, “jongin, you bastard,” that has the younger of the two laughing against kyungsoo’s cheek. 

 

they’re practically kissing at this point—their lips, their bodies, their hands, and their fingertips.

 

every contact is electrifying.

 

jongin raises them back to normal position, moves them to the other side in two large steps. kyungsoo’s still blushing and jongin cannot help bursting into a wide grin when kyungsoo pulls the hair on his nape sharply.

 

he smiles, wolfish, and jokes, “kinky. i like it.”

 

“shut up,” kyungsoo retorts before he makes a face at that.

 

jongin pushes him away, just a foot, before turning him around. their bodies meet and kyungsoo’s back pushes against jongin’s front. jongin can feel every dip and curve of kyungsoo’s torso and his right hand comes to wrap on kyungsoo’s body, resting below the older man’s chest. 

 

“this is how i’d dance with you if i meet you in a club instead of here,” jongin says lowly, deep and husky. 

 

kyungsoo places his hand over his and jongin can’t deny the moan slipping out of his lips when kyungsoo grinds his ass on his crotch slowly. 

 

“ _that—”_ kyungsoo counters. his deep voice echoes in jongin’s bones, sends a zap down jongin’s spine. he rolls his hips and the sound of denim brushing on denim is deafening in jongin’s ear. “—is how i’d dance with you if i meet you in a club instead of here.”

 

one, two, three, and a half count before he takes a step forward.

 

jongin chases him, delirious. the rules of tango are not only forgotten—they are playing a completely different game now.

 

kyungsoo places a distance between them, crosses his legs and his feet in tiny steps. jongin follows, reversing their position. he feels hypnotized, warm and at the mercy of kyungsoo’s eyes and movements.

 

it feels harder to breathe when they’re not close. 

 

kyungsoo takes a step forward and jongin meets him halfway. they dance closely—tango is a collection of chases, ending into one passionate embrace.

 

when jongin pushes kyungsoo away, kyungsoo moves like a dream and separates the two of them. the universe feels like it’s between their bodies and jongin misses the warmth and the contact, like all of his other lives culminate in the middle of this dance studio, in buenos aires.

 

kyungsoo turns and ends up in jongin’s arms. jongin grins before he grabs kyungsoo’s waist, dipping the older man.

 

his face follows suit and he breathes in, shallow and desperate. he wants to kiss kyungsoo, wants his hands on the man and underneath his clothes. everything feels too much and too little at the same time.

 

two minutes pass like forever and kyungsoo whispers, “do you want to get out of here?”

 

jongin nods and he helps kyungsoo get up from the dip. their fingers never leave each other as they slip out to the flashing lights of the buzzing argentine capital.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin grips kyungsoo’s wrist and he feels the way the man’s pulse runs away from him. the air nips their exposed skin, turning it red, but jongin figures it will be flushed either way. kyungsoo walks beside him and their steps are slow, graceful, like the dream of the dance studio lingers around the edges of their consciousness. 

 

jongin’s fingers crawl and he slots his fingers in between kyungsoo’s, fitting them between the tiny spaces of the man’s short fingers. he pulls kyungsoo closer and hides their joint hands in the pocket of his leather jacket. the sides of their bodies are close and jongin relishes in the warmth that is already becoming familiar.

 

he leans in and asks, “are you hungry?”

 

kyungsoo shakes his head and jongin’s about to ask him if he’s sure when kyungsoo’s stomach answers for the older man. the sound it makes is a definitive growl and jongin pauses, turns silent, before he breaks out into loud laughter.

 

“not hungry, huh?” he teases. he uses his free hand to poke kyungsoo’s stomach and the man shies away from jongin’s touch. jongin doesn’t let him, tightening his hold on the man’s hands clutched inside his pocket.

 

kyungsoo flushes and bites his lip. “i may be hungrier than i previously thought.”

 

jongin chuckles. “that sound means you’re _really_ hungry, kyungsoo.”

 

kyungsoo turns his nose upwards and jongin tries to stifle his giggle. he bends down and kisses the top of kyungsoo’s head. the shorter male flinches before he looks up with an indulgent smile.

 

“this okay?” jongin asks to be sure. they’re taking the long way back, the one that passes through the darker alleyways of the usually bright downtown.

 

kyungsoo pauses as if he’s weighing his reply before he beams at jongin, heart-shaped and brighter than any light. like the moon or the stars, except the smile is one thousand galaxies caught in the mouth of one person.

 

“that’s okay.” kyungsoo squeezes jongin’s hand. he tilts his head to the side, away from jongin, but instead of refusal jongin sees the man’s invitation.

 

he leans in and kisses kyungsoo on the corner of his mouth, looking to the right and left like he's crossing a road.

 

when he removes his mouth on the soft skin, it tingles.

 

kyungsoo runs after him and the shorter male’s free hand catches jongin’s nape before he pulls him down. the older man presses their lips together and it doesn’t take long before their mouths move in rhythm, like dancing. kyungsoo slips his tongue inside and jongin tastes mint and chocolate, an awful combination, but it works on kyungsoo’s tongue—somehow.

 

when they separate, kyungsoo’s fingers curl around jongin’s hair, tugging a bit. jongin groans in half complaint and half lust.

 

“come on,” the taller man presses. “it’s cold.”

 

kyungsoo laughs at his eagerness but he does walk faster.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

neither of them want to bother getting food and waiting at some restaurant. kyungsoo steers jongin at the bakery shop two buildings from jongin’s motel room. they pick up sweet breads and bottles of chocolate milk from an argentine brand. the store manager looks at their joined hands but doesn’t comment.

 

jongin leaves the small change and rushes kyungsoo to his temporary home. the person manning the reception barely spares them a glance. the place is not expensive enough for that. the elevator is blessedly empty and jongin crowds kyungsoo in one corner. the paper bag with their purchase is between them but jongin doesn’t mind, immediately leaning in.

 

kyungsoo raises his index finger and presses it on jongin’s lips. he murmurs against it, “i want another dance.”

 

jongin blinks. like this, it seems like they’re kissing—one finger apart and two breaths away.

 

“tango?” he exhales. his fingers thrum with anticipation and the lingering electricity from awhile ago. his toes curl inside his dress shoes.

 

“yes.” kyungsoo closes his eyes. “one more time. maybe two.”

 

the finger slowly falls away, dragging on jongin’s plush mouth. kyungsoo’s skin leaves burnt marks on jongin’s lips before the younger man feels a small hand cradle the side of his face. kyungsoo leans forward and he captures jongin’s mouth in a chaste kiss, simple but no less searing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

they spill inside jongin’s motel room and the sound outside filters in through the thin cement walls. jongin pushes kyungsoo to the wall and the older male chuckles before he pulls jongin’s face close. the paint is chipping beside kyungsoo’s right ear.

 

fingers curl on the taller male’s hair and kyungsoo gives the tendrils a soft tug. he brings jongin closer to him and brushes their lips together.

 

“another dance?”

 

jongin grins as his hands creep towards kyungsoo’s ass. he gives the firm flesh a knead and digs his fingernails hard through the man's denim pants.

 

kyungsoo keens hotly and one of his legs lift up, curling against jongin’s hip. their crotches press together and kyungsoo grinds his front. he tilts his head to the side and jongin takes it as an invitation to taste the man’s skin. he presses his lips to kyungsoo’s neck before he moves it gently, delicate on the petal-like skin of the short male.

 

“one last dance,” he murmurs while nipping at the pale skin. he smirks and bites down. kyungsoo moans and pulls jongin's hair harshly. jongin makes a sound halfway in pain and halfway in pleasure. he adds, “and i’ll have you all for me.”

 

“yes,” kyungsoo whispers. “i’m all yours to take.”

 

jongin smiles but he disentangles himself from the older male. he realizes he’s still holding the bag of bread and chocolate milk.

 

“do you want to eat first before dancing?”

 

kyungsoo grins at him. so far, this is the most interesting hook-up jongin’s ever had. 

 

the older male nods and he sheds off his shoes. jongin does the same.

 

the room has no lounge or dining area so jongin pulls kyungsoo to the bed. he grabs a couple of brochures from the side table and lays it on top of the covers. he pats the bed and invites kyungsoo with a lascivious wink.

 

the man laughs and light spills from between his lips, bleeding out towards all corners of the room. kyungsoo plops down on the bed and to jongin’s surprise, he lies flat on his back. he pops the button of his jeans and jongin watches, tongue stuck on the roof of his mouth, as kyungsoo’s thighs break free from the confines of the tight fabric. kyungsoo huffs and jongin bites his bottom lip as more skin shows.

 

kyungsoo looks at jongin with a playful smile as he removes one leg completely. with surprising grace, he kicks the jeans off of his other leg. the metal button clangs agains the linoleum floor of jongin’s motel room. 

 

jongin gulps.

 

“i wanted to do that for you.” he eyes kyungsoo as the shorter man arranges himself in front of their meal, thighs bare and boxer shorts peeking out of the white graphic tee. 

 

kyungsoo laughs. “sorry.” he doesn’t sound sorry at all. his thighs spill over as he sits cross legged. “i don’t like wearing tight jeans—at all.”

 

jongin raises his eyebrows. he takes the bread from the bag and bites into it. his eyes never leave kyungsoo’s naked legs. with a nonchalant looking shrug, jongin comments idly, “i like you better this way.”

 

kyungsoo raises his eyebrows as he, too, takes a piece of bread and the bottle of chocolate milk. “what? barely dressed?”

 

jongin hums. he finishes the pastry in two more bites and twists the bottle cap open. the sound clicks through the silent air. he takes a chug of his drink, licks his lips afterwards. kyungsoo’s wide eyes follow the swipe of his tongue and the bobbing of his adam’s apple. the air is hot and stifling; his tattoo burns once again.

 

“isn’t that how it will be later?” jongin scoots a little farther and he leans back, one hand behind him. instead of avoidance, it looks like a ‘come hither’.

 

“presumptuous much?” kyungsoo teases back.

 

jongin laughs shortly. “you’re in your underwear in my motel room. the lights are dim and you want to dance with me.”

 

kyungsoo hums. “does that mean i want to have sex?”

 

jongin rakes his fingers through his hair. “so—no sex for you tonight?”

 

kyungsoo gives him the stink eye. “i didn’t say that.”

 

the younger male snorts. “you implied it.”

 

“it was a rhetorical question.”

 

jongin grins before he shakes his head in mock surrender. he shrugs a broad shoulder and retorts honestly, “i’m not complaining.” he gives kyungsoo a genuine smile and adds, “your company’s more than enough—one night stand or otherwise.”

 

kyungsoo crams the bread in his mouth and jongin feels light as he watches the man’s cheeks bulge, adorable and pink. the older man grumbles something jongin doesn’t properly hear. jongin laughs quietly and he dusts himself off as he stands up. there’s a radio inside the motel room, new and battery operated. it’s sitting on top of the table under the window sill.

 

moonlight and neon colors paint the dim room as jongin turns the radio on. spanish flows out of the tiny speakers, echoing off of the bedroom walls. he knows there’s at least one station that plays non-stop tango music and tango music only and he presses the button to switch channels. 

 

he does it twice, five more times, before the familiar stirrings of the fast paced music envelop the quietness of the room. when he turns around, kyungsoo’s already standing in front of the bed.

 

the shirt falls on the tops of his plush thighs. it barely covers the man’s boxer shorts. jongin sheds his leather jacket and kyungsoo does the same with his. like this, the older male looks like he has come out of jongin’s dirtiest fantasies—plump red lips, round cheeks, wide eyes, smooth skin, wide hips.

 

“may i have this dance?” he asks cheekily.

 

kyungsoo gives a nod and answers, “of course.”

 

jongin brings the two of them in a slow embrace. his hand grips kyungsoo’s own smaller one and the other goes to rest on the man’s small waist. he feels kyungsoo’s fingers dig through the fabric of jongin’s turtleneck.

 

the height difference makes it a little bit harder to press their temples close so jongin settles for kyungsoo’s face against the side of his jaw. he feels kyungsoo breathe in and warm air fans against jongin’s sensitive skin. soft lips glide through his jaw line as their feet glide through the floor.

 

the both of them keep everything simple—basic steps and crosses. it feels more intimate this way with the tempo of the music changing and leaving the two of them in their own safe bubble. the beats and counts run away from the movement of their heels and toes but jongin doesn’t mind even if, he figures in normal circumstances, he would have.

 

the sound picks up and kyungsoo must have noticed the similarity of the musical pattern to the song they last danced to. jongin feels the telltale laughter bubbling out of kyungsoo and pouring over the skin on the side of his jaw and neck. it sends bolts of electricity from the tips of his ears down to the last knob of his spine, moving downwards to die on the ends of jongin’s toes. 

 

it leaves a pleasant tingle.

 

he turns kyungsoo before the older male pushes closer towards jongin’s front. kyungsoo raises his thigh, hooks it against jongin’s leg. he does it twice, in quick successions. one, two, and then done.

 

jongin knows what’s coming but nothing could have prepared him from the feeling of kyungsoo rubbing his thigh against his outer leg. the soft flesh drags against his jeans and naked skin on rough denim makes kyungsoo moan. the man throws his head back and his fingers grip jongin’s shoulder hard.

 

jongin growls softly before he grounds the pads of his fingers against kyungsoo’s waist. his hands move down to kyungsoo’s hip and he pinches the soft skin there before, without any warning, he pushes kyungsoo down,

 

the two of them fall on top of the bed and kyungsoo bounces before he crawls backwards. jongin stands up and calls out, “kyungsoo.”

 

kyungsoo’s eyes snap upwards and jongin smirks before he holds the hem of the turtleneck off. slowly, he pulls it up and he hears kyungsoo gasp as inch after inch of skin is revealed. working out is one of jongin’s hobbies and he knows how he looks like. judging by the way he hears kyungsoo’s breath hitching the way he spies the man biting his lower lip, he’s enjoying the sight.

 

he can’t resist the urge to tease and he throws the turtleneck towards kyungsoo’s slack face. he runs his hand over his abs and slips his fingers past the bands of his jeans.

 

“like what you’re seeing?”

 

“yes.” kyungsoo’s eyes are blown wide and his cheeks are flushed red. he whispers, “you have a tattoo on your chest.”

 

jongin nods. kyungsoo eyes the ink on his chest with barely hidden curiosity. there’s a large lion on his left pectoral with its manes fashioned into growing flames. kyungsoo licks and bites his bottom lip.

 

lust flares up in jongin’s belly and he quickly pops the button of his jeans. the sound of the zipper dragging against the metal is loud against the ringing jongin is hearing in his ears and when he shimmies out of it, he’s left naked in only his black boxer shorts.

 

he and kyungsoo match.

 

“this is fate,” he jokes. he crawls over kyungsoo as the man parts his thighs wide. jongin settles in between as he grabs the ends of kyungsoo’s shirt. he pulls it off in one swift motion.

 

“coincidence,” kyungsoo retorts back.

 

jongin shakes his head before he bends down to kiss kyungsoo on the man’s jugular. his hands trace the shorter male’s warm skin and jongin sneaks his fingers underneath kyungsoo’s ass. he hooks his index finger on the fabric of the other man’s underwear before he snaps it.

 

kyungsoo yelps but jongin holds him down on one thigh. 

 

“you’re so beautiful,” jongin says reverently. both their skin is painted with glowing red and white and blue and silver from the outside. buenos aires comes alive underneath the night sky like a blooming flower, electricity and alcohol flowing through thick cigarette smoke and the sounds of laughter.

 

“you too,” kyungsoo replies softly. his hands are on Jongin’s abs, roving on the defined ridges of muscles. his palm feels so good against jongin’s heated skin.

 

jongin places a gentle peck on kyungsoo’s lips, pushing the man to sink into the bed. hovering above, his lips kiss the skin on the juncture of kyungsoo’s neck. he feels the fast thuds of the other’s pulse on his jugular and jongin nibbles on the skin. his hands creep towards kyungsoo’s boxer briefs and jongin palms the man’s growing erection.

 

jongin’s lips continue its travel down and his hand brushes one of kyungsoo’s nipples before he latches his mouth on the other one. kyungsoo’s moan echoes all over the quiet bedroom. his hands come up to clutch at jongin’s hair. the younger man continues to suck the nipple. kyungsoo rips Jongin away and he marvels at how red kyungsoo’s face already is.

 

“this okay?” jongin asks. once kyungsoo nods in affirmative, jongin leans down again. this time, he sticks his tongue out, flicking the sensitive nub repeatedly. his other hand brushes the neglected nipple again, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger before pinching. kyungsoo’s back arches off of the bed alongside a release of another loud moan. he releases the abused pink bud and does the same on the other.

 

jongin feels smug and his cock is insistent against the cotton of his underwear. kyungsoo must have noticed jongin’s hard on and he tugs on jongin’s hair again to pull the man away. 

 

kyungsoo palms Jongin’s dick and the layer of fabric does wonders when it rubs on jongin. kyungsoo raises himself on one of his elbows, one leg coming in between jongin’s thighs before flipping them both. the older man sits down on jongin and the younger groans at the warmth of kyungsoo’s plush ass and thick thighs.

 

pale fingers reach to rub jongin’s cock over the younger male’s boxer briefs. jongin nudges kyungsoo to go on as kyungsoo bounces and rubs himself against jongin’s muscular thighs. the older male groans and a high keen makes its way out of jongin’s thick lips.

 

quickly leaning down, kyungsoo licks the beads of sweat in between jongin’s pecs. 

 

jongin’s hands slip inside the waistband of Kyungsoo’s underwear. he buries his fingernails on the tight flesh of kyungsoo’s ass. the older man groans before he grinds his hip on the hardness between Jongin’s legs. jongin feels kyungsoo bracing his thighs from how the older male is straddling him and he digs his fingers even harder, wanting to leave crescent shaped marks on kyungsoo’s smooth skin. 

 

“fuck, kyungsoo,” jongin groans, holding kyungsoo’s ass like it’s a priceless artwork.

 

kyungsoo scratches jongin’s toned stomach and jongin groans, feeling every line that kyungsoo leaves in his wake.

 

“take it off, jongin,” kyungsoo complains. his hips buck upwards and jongin holds it down and clicks his tongue.

 

“you’re so impatient.”

 

kyungsoo has the audacity to smile at him and jongin follows the way the man’s hand goes to the band of his boxer briefs. kyungsoo drags his finger on the cotton and jongin gulps as he rolls away.

 

“fine,” he grits out. “take it off.”

 

kyungsoo makes a sound before he raises his hips. jongin quickly takes his underwear off but the other makes a show of it like a tease. he pulls it down slowly and jongin’s hand goes to circle his own cock, pumping the flesh and playing with the tip. kyungsoo’s half hard and his dick bobs when he finally removes his underwear. he kicks it off, leg stretching and flexing.

 

jongin moves to kneel at the foot of the bed and kyungsoo makes a questioning sound. jongin grins at him before he grips kyungsoo’s slim ankle. he presses a kiss on the jutting bone.

 

kyungsoo props himself a bit and his cheeks are flushed. 

 

“i didn’t expect you to be that kind of man,” the older male comments.

 

jongin’s mouth trails upward as he kisses kyungsoo’s lower leg delicately. the skin is smooth and soft under his lips.

 

“what kind?” he murmurs.

 

“this kind.” from his periphery, jongin sees kyungsoo nod at him. “i kind of expected you to be rough. maybe fast. the throw after use kind of one night stand.”

 

“do i really look like that?” jongin raises his eyebrows before he bites the skin on kyungsoo’s inner thigh. the small male moans and his back curves up from the bed. he adds, nipping the skin, “i can be that way too, if that’s how you want it to be.”

 

kyungsoo breathes deeply and jongin leans down to mouth the other man’s balls. kyungsoo whines and jongin feels the man’s heel pressing on his tailbone. 

 

jongin kisses the skin and his mouth moves to trace the line of kyungsoo’s cock. his own erection is already painful, heavy between his legs, but he can wait until he gives kyungsoo enough pleasure—until kyungsoo begs and cries.

 

“which one do you prefer, baby?” jongin asks. the nickname comes out of him before he can stop himself but kyungsoo makes a noise low on his throat with a breathy moan of _yes_.

 

jongin takes the tip of kyungsoo’s leaking cock inside his mouth. he doesn’t take in anymore but he sucks harshly. kyungsoo gives a loud cry and both his hands go to jongin’s hair. 

 

fingers pull on the strands almost harshly and jongin enjoys every tug like it’s kyungsoo’s pleas.

 

jongin pulls away. “that’s not an answer.”

 

the younger man slinks upwards so he’s hovering over kyungsoo’s tiny form. the man’s eyes are wet with the sheen of his own tears and his mouth is red from being kissed and bitten. his breathing is harsh and the blush goes down to his chest.

 

“whatever you’ll give me, jongin,” kyungsoo replies. his eyelids flutter and jongin can see kyungsoo’s long lashes kissing the skin under the older man’s doe eyes.

 

jongin smirks and says, “as you wish.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin wraps his arm around kyungsoo’s small shoulders and the older man snuggles deep in to jongin’s side. he is mouthing at jongin’s lion tattoo, tracing the swirls of ink with his lips. jongin feels a slight tingle and looks down to see kyungsoo nip at the skin.

 

he laughs. 

 

“you like my tattoo that much?”

 

kyungsoo shrugs. their naked bodies are pressed together and kyungsoo’s leg slips in between jongin. 

 

“it’s hot,” he says nonchalantly. “you can’t blame me for finding you and your tattoo hot.”

 

his fingers walk their way down the older male’s arm. jongin grips kyungsoo’s wrist and maneuvers them to a less uncomfortable position. he raises the man’s wrist to his lips and kisses the inside of it.

 

kyungsoo makes a questioning sound.

 

“what are you doing?” the smaller man asks. jongin drops another kiss, lips tracing the black mark on the skin. kyungsoo doesn’t pull away and he takes that as an invitation and a permission to continue. he drags his lips on the soft skin before kyungsoo shrugs his hold. the man rolls over so he’s lying on top of jongin completely.

 

jongin wriggles up until he’s sitting on the bed. he brings kyungsoo with him and fixes the older male on his lap. the blanket falls a bit and kyungsoo hitches it higher so they’re both warm.

 

“you have three more lives left—including this one,” jongin observes. one of his arms is wrapped around kyungsoo’s tiny waist and his free hand automatically reaches for kyungsoo’s wrist. the older male lets him and jongin rubs the protruding bone.

 

he knows where the mark is—all marks are placed on the same area on the wrist. in the middle, where it’s warmed up by the person’s own pulse. even without looking, jongin has memorized how it looks like, has spent his entire life almost obsessing over it.

 

he glances at kyungsoo’s either way. the black looks stark against the pale skin and kyungsoo’s blue veins seemingly bleed out of the three petaled lotus. jongin brushes the pad of his index finger as he feels kyungsoo’s weight sinking deeper into him. the man’s soft hair brushes against the underside of his jaw as plush lips kiss the side of his neck lightly.

 

jongin hears kyungsoo sing a song lowly, deep and almost secretive. the notes abruptly cut off before he can make out the lyrics or the tune and kyungsoo says, “you have four petals left on yours.”

 

jongin freezes up as kyungsoo’s hand circles his own wrist where his tattoo is at. he doesn’t know if kyungsoo notices the slight hesitation, the jump in his pulse, the hitch in his breathing, or if the shorter man has just passed it off as normal reaction towards something so private.

 

“i do,” jongin replies after a moment. “three more lives if i die in this one.”

 

he feels kyungsoo’s lips stretch against his skin but he can’t see what kind of smile it is. kyungsoo moves up and jongin’s hand chases after him. the older male chuckles.

 

“i’m not going anywhere.”

 

kyungsoo doesn’t. instead, he arranges himself so he’s sitting on top of jongin’s thighs, straddling the younger man. he’s facing jongin directly and his small hands cup the younger male’s chiseled jaw.

 

softly, like sharing a secret, he asks, “do you think we’ll meet in our next life?”

 

both of jongin’s hands come up to grip kyungsoo’s hips and he rubs soothing circles on the skin, hoping the sad tone that kyungsoo has used will go away with every contact of their skin.

 

when jongin smiles, he hides it in kyungsoo’s hair. no use allowing the older male to see that jongin’s smile does not reach his eyes. 

 

“of course we will,” jongin mumbles. kyungsoo nods. “we have to find each other again.”

 

kyungsoo chuckles but jongin notices how wet it is. sadness rolls off of the shorter man in thick waves, permeating the still air. in the end, kyungsoo says, requests—almost pleads, “one more dance with me.”

 

jongin nods, lies, says what kyungsoo wants to hear. “all the dances in my next lives are reserved for you.”

 

kyungsoo laughs and he leans into jongin’s body. the small man embraces him in his arms, engulfs him inside his thin arms.

 

jongin cannot help but add, in a small and pained voice, “but you don’t believe in fate.”

 

kyungsoo nods against him and he replies, “i really don’t.”

 

“then why do you think we’ll meet again?”

 

the older male shrugs, “we will. we won’t. it doesn’t make a difference since neither of us will remember.”

 

this time, jongin sighs against kyungsoo’s skin. the shorter male is slowly kissing the side of his neck while his fingers play with the loose tendrils of hair falling on jongin’s nape.

 

“so everything is what? a coincidence?” 

 

jongin’s hands continue to knead kyungsoo’s soft hips. he feels the lust build up slowly from the way their bodies are pressed naked. it’s slow and sensual, still very much like the tango from awhile ago.

 

“yes,” kyungsoo answers simply. 

 

he bites the juncture of jongin’s jaw and his ear delicately, before licking the abused skin. jongin moans and tilts his head. kyungsoo already knows where he’s extremely sensitive. a couple more hours with the man and he’ll make jongin cry from pleasure.

 

jongin’s right hand slips from kyungsoo’s hipbone to the patch of skin below kyungsoo’s navel. he brushes it, featherlight and slow, and kyungsoo makes a high sound as he arches his back. jongin marvels at the man’s reaction—how beautiful he is like this, slowly falling apart from a single touch.

 

this time, jongin takes control as he captures kyungsoo’s lips in a searing kiss. he swipes his tongue over kyungsoo’s lip and the man groans. he slips his tongue inside, tasting kyungsoo from every inch. he feels soft hands move down and he can’t help the whine he releases when kyungsoo presses one hand on his cock, rubbing and palming him to hardness.

 

jongin bites kyungsoo’s lip before he separates and drags it with him. his teeth scrapes the delicate skin and then he fully lets go. kyungsoo’s eyes are glassy and his chest is heaving up and down. jongin grins down at him.

 

“if it’s coincidence, then how do you explain to korean men in buenos aires going to a once-a-year group tango class, being partners, and then sleeping together?” jongin smirks, cheeky and arrogant.

 

kyungsoo deadpans, “i’d say the korean men are both gay and horny—and share the same interests.”

 

“point.” jongin tilts his head. “but that’s _too_ much coincidence, isn’t it?”

 

kyungsoo smiles, “there’s no such thing as too much coincidence.”

 

jongin hums and before he kisses kyungsoo again. their hands roam all over their bodies and jongin ruts his dick against kyungsoo’s thigh, enjoying the friction. 

 

when he kisses kyungsoo up his jaw line and traces the shell of his ear with his mouth, jongin whispers, “maybe this is meant to be.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin wakes up sticky and tired as the warmth of sunlight streams through the window of his motel room. he rolls over the bed and finds the slight heat of another body that has settled within the sheets. 

 

he makes a confused noise before he shoots up.

 

“kyungsoo?” he calls out. his eyes roam the empty room to find nothing. no heart-shaped smile. no wide eyes. no sunshine pouring into his room from one tiny man. 

 

jongin sits up with a groan and a heavy heart. when he turns to the side he finds the bakery receipt from last night resting on top of the bedside table. jongin’s ballpoint pen is resting over it and jongin snatches the strip and finds a letter. 

 

_i had fun, jongin. thank you for the dances and don’t forget that you have to do it again with me in our next lives. maybe we can try waltz?_

 

_all the love,_

 

_kyungsoo_

 

jongin reads the note again—once, twice, thrice—until the words blur together in a mess. until it’s tattooed beside the mark on his wrist. he grabs his wallet beside the pen and folds the slip of paper into two. he slips in inside where a photo is meant to be.

 

the sunlight continues to pour from the windows but, somehow, jongin doesn’t feel warm.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

buenos aires disappears within the week. jongin spends the days roaming the streets like a local, sampling delicacies and exchanging poor spanish with the old man playing chess outside his house. nights are occupied with flashing lights and the loud bass of club music or the bad lighting of his ugly motel room alongside the steady stream of tango music.

 

kyungsoo doesn’t leave his mind and jongin finds his usual dreamless sleep invaded by images of heart-shaped lips and pale skin. jongin can feel the curve of kyungsoo’s waist and the flare of his hips underneath the palms of his hands. every note and pull of the strings that belt out of the radio speakers, jongin thinks of the way kyungsoo moans and cries. when the music stutters out, he thinks of the way kyungsoo’s breathing hitches with jongin’s touch. 

 

the letter stays inside his wallet and while jongin doesn’t take it out after that one time he has gotten black out drunk, it’s a searing reminder that everything that has happened that night is real.

 

the tango. the bed. the conversation. 

 

he doesn’t meet kyungsoo again and the tattoo on his wrist burns, reminding him of his own lie. 

 

there are no more next lives for him. there are no more dances for either of them. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin slings his duffel bag over his right shoulder as he walks between the seats in the plane. he clutches the strap and mutters an _excuse me_ every three seconds. he almost hits a middle-aged caucasian male and he flinches when the man shoots him an acerbic glare. jongin spots his seat and hurriedly walks, head bent low.

 

just as he’s putting his bag overhead, jongin hears a sound below him and a familiar voice drawling, “what a coincidence.”

 

jongin snaps his head down and he almost drops his bag as he sees the man that’s filled his thoughts sitting beside him. he rushes to push his bag inside the compartment and he closes it shut. he drops on the seat beside kyungsoo and faces the smaller man.

 

“still calling this a coincidence?” he jokingly asks. “what are the chances that the two horny korean men who share the same interests will meet again in a plane to amsterdam?”

 

kyungsoo mock glares. “surprisingly big.”

 

jongin smirks and leans into kyungsoo’s space. there’s an inch or less between their lips. jongin can feel the warm fan of kyungsoo’s breath against his face.

 

“i don’t think so,” he remarks idly. jongin pushes his face even closer and he delights when kyungsoo closes his eyes out of instinct and, he hopes, anticipation.

 

he brushes their lips together but he pulls away immediately.

 

happiness flares in his gut when kyungsoo makes a disappointed noise. the man opens his eyes and squints at him. he looks adorable when glaring, jongin notes.

 

sarcastic and acidic, kyungsoo says, “you’re not that good of a fuck, jongin.”

 

jongin huffs a low laugh at kyungsoo’s tone. he crosses his legs and turns his body fully towards kyungsoo’s seat. 

 

“that’s not what you said that night,” he singsongs. “if i remember correctly, you told me i was big. you even begged and cried for me to go faste—”

 

“shut up!” kyungsoo hisses out as he smashes both his hands into jongin’s face. jongin’s head snaps back at the force but he can’t help the way giggles bubble up and out of his mouth from kyungsoo’s red face.

 

“i’m not lying.” jongin manages to say through his laughter and around kyungsoo’s hands. “i’m just recalling what happened that ni—”

 

“yes,” kyungsoo grits out. his face is flushed and the color disappears beneath his shirt and down to his chest. jongin knows—he’s seen the man naked. with a freezing stare, the older man adds in a sharp tone, “you’re an amazing fuck, kim jongin. now, shut up before i make you.”

 

jongin huffs with laughter but murmurs an apology, insincere it may be, to the put upon male beside him.

 

“kinky,” he says.

he sees kyungsoo about to retort but the man stops short. when jongin peeks behind him, an elderly woman settles beside jongin’s seat. jongin shrugs but he leans into kyungsoo’s space. the man doesn’t push him away and he counts it as a personal win.

 

“so,” he drags out. “what are you doing flying to amsterdam from buenos aires?”

 

kyungsoo shoots him a stare and he looks like he’s debating whether he’ll talk to jongin or not. 

 

in the end, the older man sighs. “visiting my older brother.”

 

“oh?” jongin raises an eyebrow. “what’s your brother doing in amsterdam?”

 

kyungsoo crosses his legs, pointing towards jongin’s direction. “he works there.” he pulls his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and tapping the camera roll icon. jongin eyes the screen—kyungsoo has a lot of photographs.

 

he clicks a folder labelled with a sun emoji and a beach emoji before he shows jongin a picture of a man in a floral shirt. the horizon looks like it’s taken somewhere in greece.

 

“this is seungsoo—my older brother.”

 

the man in the screen doesn’t look anything like kyungsoo and jongin says as much. kyungsoo shrugs.

 

“he takes after our dad. i look more like our mom.”

 

jongin nods and kyungsoo turns his wide eyes at him. there’s a small smile playing on his lips. “and you? what are you going to amsterdam for?”

 

he grins. “exchange student.”

 

kyungsoo grins at that and teases him, “fancy.”

 

jongin shrugs. “the university offered and my parents are paying for it so why not?”

 

kyungsoo snorts. “spoiled brat.”

 

the younger man shrugs again. kyungsoo can call it what it is. besides, he kind of is.

 

jongin cannot resist asking so he turns the conversation back towards kyungsoo. “and how long will you be in amsterdam?”

 

kyungsoo hums. “almost three days? it’s more of a stop over than anything else.”

 

jongin’s eyebrows lift to his hairline. “stop over?”

 

“yeah,” kyungsoo nods. “i live in paris.”

 

jongin grins. “ _that_ is fancy.”

 

“not really,” kyungsoo shakes his head. there’s a wide smile on his face and he tilts his head down. 

 

“you probably own a beret,” jongin jokes. he sees kyungsoo freezing up and the older male turns wide eyes at him. 

 

“i—” he pauses. kyungsoo bites his lip and flushes. “i do own one.”

 

jongin snorts. “do you have it with you?”

 

kyungsoo flushes at that and he mumbles, “yes.”

 

jongin laughs and he comments, off-handedly, “you can take the boy out of paris but you can’t take paris out of the boy.”

 

kyungsoo looks at him sharply and jongin makes sure to grin at him winningly. the older male bites out, nose in the air, “that’s a stereotype.”

 

“stereotypes exist for a reason, kyungsoo,” jongin says. 

 

an idea pops inside his head and he almost wishes it didn’t. his pulse speeds up and he clenches his hands into tight fists. kyungsoo doesn’t notice a thing and jongin maintains a placid smile, easy and nonchalant. 

 

he asks, “you should wear it and maybe we can go out while you’re in amsterdam?”

 

he hates how weak his voice sounds, how hopeful—how close he is to begging. his heart beats loudly and it almost drowns out the sound of the chatters as he waits for kyungsoo’s reply. 

 

kyungsoo smiles and answers, “i’d love to.”

 

jongin’s heart eases just a bit.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

they land in amsterdam in a couple of hours without any problem. jongin stands up first and he grabs his bag out of the compartment. kyungsoo follows suit and they deplane without a word.

 

the two of them walk around the airport aimlessly. jongin doesn’t want to leave yet. the tattoo burns once again like a reminder and an ultimatum.

 

“are you going to your brother’s place right now?” he asks. jongin’s standing in the taxi bay with kyungsoo.

 

“yeah. i’ll probably spend the entire day with him—mooch off of him a little. spend his money.”

 

jongin laughs at that but he's not sure if the happiness reaches his eyes or if it’s stuck on the curve of his mouth. 

 

“but we’ll meet, right?”

 

kyungsoo nods at him with a grin. “of course. do you have a kakaotalk id?”

 

jongin nods eagerly. “i do. add me now. kimkai—no spaces.”

 

kyungsoo fishes his phone out and he connects to the free airport wifi. he taps the kakaotalk icon and keys in kimkai. 

 

“why kim kai?” kyungsoo asks curiously.

 

jongin reaches for his nape and he rubs the skin there. “i used to be in this dance group when i was a teenager. kim kai’s my—how do you say it?—stage name?”

 

kyungsoo nods and he comments as he finally adds jongin, “somehow i’m not surprised.”

 

“you've seen me dance tango,” he remarks. “you’ve danced with me.”

 

“doesn’t mean you’re good enough to be in a dance group,” he retorts. “you do seem very… dancer-like.”

 

jongin smirks. “is it because of the way i move my hips?”

 

kyungsoo seemingly chokes on nothing and a loud laughter breaks out of jongin.

 

“why are you such a pervert, jongin?”

 

“you look cute blushing,” is all he replies—like that’s enough of an answer. “and i didn’t say anything. i only mentioned how i moved my hips.” jongin smirks and drawls out, “why are _you_ such a pervert, kyungsoo?”

 

kyungsoo flushes even harder and he balls his hand into fists before he pounds jongin’s chest. “you’re annoying.”

 

jongin chuckles and he catches kyungsoo’s wrist. it’s the one with the tattoo. he lets go immediately and kyungsoo takes it back, hugs his mark close to his chest. 

 

“sorry,” jongin mumbles.

 

kyungsoo shakes his head. “it’s nothing.”

 

the older man is next in line and jongin mutters in a small voice, “we’ll see each other tomorrow, right?”

 

kyungsoo nods and he smiles again—that sunny smile that shows his gums, heart-shaped and wide, with matching crescent eyes. jongin cannot help the ache in his chest. kyungsoo is so, so beautiful. 

 

“i'll see you tomorrow, jongin.”

 

jongin grips his own marked wrists, hides it from the world. he smiles at kyungsoo too but somehow, he knows it’s less beautiful.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin stands in front of the letter a that makes up the entire ‘amsterdam’ in front of rijksmuseum. he has tucked his black shirt under his skinny jeans for the third time in twenty minutes. the silver watch on his left wrist is heavy, reminding him of the time remaining. the hands mock him.

 

he checks his phone and scrolls through instagram, trying to distract himself. he shoots kyungsoo a quick message on kakaotalk that the older man quickly replies to with a smiling emoji.

 

jongin taps his foot against the ground and tries to create a rhythm to go with his anxiety and excitement. a couple of minutes later, he hears a familiar voice.

 

“hey, jongin!” kyungsoo calls out with a wave of his hand.

 

jongin breaks into a wide smile as he jogs towards the shorter male. he stands in front of kyungsoo with a grin and he laughs at the man’s outfit.

 

“you really wore the beret!” he teases. jongin reaches to pat kyungsoo’s hat but the older male swats his hand away.

 

“don’t touch it.” kyungsoo warns. 

 

jongin shrugs and takes a step back, admiring kyungsoo’s attire. the man is wearing black skinny jeans again tucked over a plain white shirt. he’s sporting a black leather jacket that looks fashionably boxy on him. 

 

“you look good, kyungsoo,” jongin comments. 

 

kyungsoo smiles shyly at him before he, too, mumbles, “you look good, too.”

 

jongin laughs and bashfully mutters his thank you. he tilts his head to the side and bends down a little to look at kyungsoo’s face. the shorter man has his mouth quirked upwards, tight-lipped like he’s trying hard to contain himself.

 

“so,” jongin puts his hand behind him. “how about we visit rijksmuseum?” he tries to pronounce it properly but it doesn’t come out the way the girl living beside him has said it when she has asked him on a date once.

 

kyungsoo’s eyebrows furrow. “the what?”

 

jongin gestures to the large architecture behind them. “rijksmuseum. it’s one of the most visited museums here in the netherlands. and well, the van gogh museum is near. we can go there if you want? or after rijksmuseum?”

 

kyungsoo stares at jongin and jongin bites his lip.

 

“museum?” kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. his face is impassive.

 

“oh god.” jongin frowns. “you don’t like art museums?”

 

kyungsoo suddenly smiles and jongin sighs in relief when the man replies, “fortunately for you and amsterdam, i really like art museums.”

 

jongin feels the older man’s hand grips his and he freezes up. kyungsoo turns to him with wide eyes and makes to pull away. jongin pulls the man’s small hand and intertwines theirs together.

 

“no take backs,” he says. “we’re holding hands now.”

 

kyungsoo erupts into soft giggles and he swings both their hands between them. he leads jongin to rijksmuseum and jongin watches as the other male starts conversing in english with the museum staff. he listens intently and catches the way kyungsoo’s tongue curls around the letter r or the way he drags the letter j.

 

as they’re walking inside, jongin says, “you have an accent when speaking english.”

 

kyungsoo turns to him with a questioning look. “i do?”

 

“yup,” jongin pops the p. “it’s very french. you sound like people in movies.”

 

the smaller man snorts. “somehow i doubt that.” his thumb rubs the skin on the back of jongin’s hand. his eyes stay glued to the displays as he continues talking. “i grew up in paris though. so i think the accent is inevitable.”

 

jongin pushes himself closer beside kyungsoo. he’s diligently trying to study the artwork in front of him. it looks dull.

 

he says as much to kyungsoo and the man turns to him with a stink eye.

 

“that’s a rembrandt right there.”

 

jongin quirks his lips. “should i know him?”

 

“ _‘should i know him?’_ ,” kyungsoo scoffs. “he’s one of the greatest visual artists in history.”

 

jongin raises one shoulder in a shrug serving as an apology. kyungsoo playfully rolls his eyes at him and the younger male can only laugh.

 

“it just looks dull because of the shadows,” kyungsoo says. his index finger is pointed towards the painting, circling the part that jongin notes to be lack luster. “if you look closely you’ll see the definition in every stroke and—there, see—it’s not just black but shades of black.”

 

jongin squints and tilts his head. “i think i kind of see it.”

 

“and the way the shadows seamlessly move to the light and color. it’s just beautiful.” kyungsoo chuckles and squeezes jongin’s hand. “you’re not much of an art person?”

 

“not really,” jongin shakes his head.

 

“i thought you would be,” kyungsoo remarks. 

 

“why?” jongin asks. the two of them walk and move on to the next artwork. jongin likes this one better.

 

he glances at kyungsoo and smiles. he likes this one the best.

 

kyungsoo hums. “well, i figured with your tattoo…” the older male trails off. jongin feels a lump build in his throat.

 

“tattoo?” he asks in a small voice.

 

“that lion took a long time for your tattoo artist,” kyungsoo gestures to his chest and jongin understands. he breathes in relief as kyungsoo clarifies, “i’ve seen you naked, remember?.”

 

“how can i forget?” jongin grins teasingly. kyungsoo glares at him but jongin bumps the man’s narrow shoulder before they continue walking through the museum. he adds, “and it took him a year and two months.”

 

kyungsoo’s eyes widen. “i didn’t realize tattoos take that long.”

 

jongin taps his chest with his free hand. “it’s really big and detailed. i think my tattoo artist hated me afterwards.”

 

kyungsoo laughs and jongin adds, “and it took many sessions to complete. just the shadow alone.” jongin shakes his head in remembrance. “it was really painful for me and for my wallet.”

 

kyungsoo snorts before he smiles at jongin. the heart-shaped one with crescent eyes and head thrown a little bit back. “see, you like art. your tattoo is art.”

 

jongin makes a sound at the back of his throat. “this started as a bet. some asshole said to me i wouldn’t have the guts to get a tattoo and—”

 

“the best way for someone to make you do something is for them to tell you not to do the thing,” kyungsoo finishes his sentence.

 

“exactly.” jongin grins at the man. “and you? what makes you do something?”

 

kyungsoo bites his lip and he looks upward in thought. he twists his mouth before replying, “i guess love.”

 

jongin’s eyebrows rise almost to his hairline. “a romantic then?”

 

“not by a long shot,” kyungsoo snorts. “i just find it hard to do things if i don’t like it.”

 

“so you don’t do things out of spite? revenge?” jongin prompts.

 

kyungsoo shakes his head. “that sounds like it’s too much effort.”

 

“touché,” jongin replies. kyungsoo stops in front of the painting again and jongin cannot help but comment the obvious. “you love art.”

 

kyungsoo nods and makes a humming sound. “i do. i study fashion in paris.”

 

jongin eyes kyungsoo from his beret to the tips of his pointed toe boots. he jokes, “i look like trash beside you.”

 

kyungsoo snorts. “i told you you look good. not trashy at all. the jacket you’re wearing is burberry?”

 

jongin, honestly, has no idea. he tells it to kyungsoo and the older man eyes him with disdain before laughing, “you really have no idea about art.”

 

he replies, “i study economics. i don’t know about shadows and lights at all.”

 

kyungsoo makes a face. “that sounds boring.”

 

“it’s not!” jongin jokingly defends. “it’s exciting! like, when you try to solve problems or puzzles.” he pulls kyungsoo and turns around, walking backwards so he’s facing the older man. “i feel like i’m figuring out a solution to a problem every single time.”

 

kyungsoo places one hand on jongin’s hip, steering him. jongin carefully walks backwards. 

 

“for someone who believes in fate,” kyungsoo remarks. “you’re awfully pragmatic.”

 

“believing in fate isn’t some grandiose delusion, you know?” jongin says. 

 

“sounds like it sometimes,” kyungsoo retorts. “how everything is pre-destined? i think, i’d like to make my own fate.”

 

“but isn’t it romantic?” jongin sighs. “to know that all your nine lives, there’s just one person.”

 

kyungsoo shrugs, “you won’t know because you won’t remember.”

 

“how about those people who do? have you heard of the case of the japanese woman? kirishima kanako?”

 

kyungsoo nods. jongin isn’t surprised—kirishima kanako is one of the most famous cycle stories. 

 

“she claimed to remember all her past lovers,” kyungsoo answers. “she was supposedly the concubine of the japanese emperor, right?”

 

“yeah,” jongin nods. kyungsoo taps his hip again and he moves to the right. “and there are many readers now who can tell you all about it. and most of them have degrees in history and genealogy.”

 

kyungsoo snorts, “it just seems like capitalism to me.”

 

jongin huffs a chuckle. “the business side of romance and the exploitation of destiny.”

 

kyungsoo smiles and jongin lets go of their hands before he walks side by side with kyungsoo again.

 

“you know, you seem like a hard person to crack,” he notes. “but somehow we click. do you feel that?”

 

kyungsoo grins, toothy and gummy. “next question, please.”

 

“nope,” jongin replies. “we’re playing a game now. one personal question for every place we visit in amsterdam.”

 

kyungsoo giggles, “since when is there a game?”

 

jongin looks at his watch before he grins. “since three seconds ago.”

 

“can i go home?” the older male jokes but adds, “maybe we do.”

 

“just maybe,” jongin drawls. he wraps his arm around kyungsoo’s shoulders before they turn to the left.

 

“a strong maybe,” kyungsoo amends.

 

“well i still have—” jongin checks the time. “—fourteen hours before the day officially ends to get that maybe into a yes.”

 

kyungsoo laughs, retorts, “do your worst.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“when i said do your worst i meant it as an idiom,” kyungsoo deadpans.

 

jongin laughs at him and he jokingly bumps their shoulders. kyungsoo sways to the left and almost loses his balance but jongin quickly catches him around the waist with a giggle.

 

“not funny,” kyungsoo glares. there is a smile playing on his lips that says it is. 

 

“come on, kyungsoo,” jongin placates and convinces the older male. “it’s amsterdam. you have to ride a bike through the streets.”

 

kyungsoo’s mouth twists, like it’s either threatening to spill curses or short huffs of chuckles. jongin puts on his best pleading look and pouts even a bit.

 

“you’re not cute,” kyungsoo shots him down but he eyes the bike with something akin to curiosity. in the end, he says, “as long as you pedal.”

 

“i will!” jongin enthusiastically replies. “you sit in the back and hug me around my middle.” jongin leans down and pecks his nose. kyungsoo gasps and takes a step back. his cheeks are flushed red and he’s holding his face with both his hands. jongin adds, heart fluttering with every words, “stay close to me—close enough so i can feel your heartbeat.”

 

kyungsoo sputters and jongin pushes the older man to the bike rental before he can retort or retaliate. they get a bike with a seat at the back and jongin hops and straddles it.

 

he turns around and sees kyungsoo hesitantly looking at him. jongin smiles, “it’s going to be fine.” he nods his head in gesture to beckon the shorter male towards him. “you can sit or stand up.”

 

kyungsoo replies shortly, “i’ll sit. thanks.”

 

he gingerly sits behind jongin and he clasps his thighs tightly as he angles his body forward. jongin sits down and places both his feet on the pedals. 

 

“wrap your arms around me, kyungsoo,” jongin says softly.

 

thin arms go around jongin’s torso and kyungsoo links his hands on top of jongin’s abdomen. jongin’s heart beats loudly in his chest as he starts to pedal.

 

the first few meters are taken with silence and the scenery of amsterdam passes by them in a slow blur. jongin keeps their speed slow and steady. 

 

kyungsoo breaks the silence first when he asks, “aren’t you getting tired?”

 

jongin quirks his head to the side. he can’t see kyungsoo’s face but the softness of his voice is telling. 

 

“of what?”

 

“of who,” kyungsoo corrects. there’s a moment of silence and the bike makes a short creaking sound. kyungsoo’s arms tighten around jongin. “of me.”

 

“why would i?” jongin replies back incredulously.

 

“i feel like such an awful date,” kyungsoo answers. jongin avoids another bike as he turns a little bit to the left. 

 

“you’re not—i swear it,” jongin assures the man. he momentarily lets go of one of the handles to pat the back of kyungsoo’s hand. the older man gasps and jongin quickly brings his hand back to the handle bar. he adds, quiet but he knows it is audible, “i r _eally, really_ like you, kyungsoo.”

 

“i just don’t understand, jongin” kyungsoo almost whines. he drags the last syllable and the wind carries it over to disappear in the air. 

 

“what is so hard to understand about that?” jongin shrugs, wonders. 

 

“how you can like a person after meeting them for one night?” kyungsoo sounds frustrated, though skeptical. “after having sex?”

 

“well, the sex was a-plus,” jongin jokes. kyungsoo snorts at that. “and i just—somehow do. you’re good-looking. you’re funny. you have amazing style. you love art. you—just seem—so much.”

 

“that sounds like something out of a movie,” kyungsoo comments.

 

“it’s not,” jongin retorts. “but seriously—don’t you like me?” 

 

jongin says that with such lightness but he can’t lie and say kyungsoo’s answer doesn’t make him nervous.

 

“i do like you,” kyungsoo replies with much conviction before jongin can even have time to build up the anxiety. 

 

“see—” jongin makes another turn. “—you like me and i like you. that’s why we’re on a date.”

 

“it’s just,” kyungsoo pauses before he stops completely.

 

jongin prompts, “just what?”

 

“nothing,” kyungsoo replies quickly. he sounds flustered.

 

jongin smiles. “don’t overthink it, kyungsoo. amsterdam is a beautiful city.”

 

he hears no reply but he feels kyungsoo rest his cheek against jongin’s back. jongin just smiles and hopes kyungsoo enjoys the scenery on his left side.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“we’ve gone through most of the museums and we’ve eaten lunch. you even made me ride a bike with you,” kyungsoo says as he swings their joined hands back and forth. jongin tries hard not to peek at his watch but the dip of the sun and the changing color of the sky remind him of the inevitable.

 

“correction,” he jokes. “i rode the bike. _you_ sat at the back and looked pretty.”

 

kyungsoo laughs. “i will look pretty anyways.”

 

jongin squeezes the man’s hand and replies sincerely, “yes, you will.”

 

he glances sideways at that and it’s endearing how confident kyungsoo can be but still innocently bashful. the man is a series of paradoxes—one moment, jongin thinks he has him all figured out and then, the next moment, he’ll be spiraling down into puzzle pieces.

 

they’re walking through the length of herengracht and jongin watches kyungsoo slowly places one foot in front before he crosses the other. the older man looks like he’s tiptoeing, or balancing himself on top of a narrow beam that only he can see. jongin holds kyungsoo’s hand tightly and kyungsoo squeezes his hands back.

 

kyungsoo’s not looking at him and jongin starts to hum a slow song that reminds him of the buzz of buenos aires in the middle of the silence that is amsterdam.

 

“we can just continue walking around,” he suggests. kyungsoo smiles as he tilts his body sideways. jongin supports the older man, gripping his hand tightly.

 

“no itinerary for the rest of the afternoon?” kyungsoo asks. 

 

jongin shrugs. “never really had one in the first place.”

 

kyungsoo jokingly clicks his tongue but one side of his mouth quirks upwards. jongin feels himself smiling from the sight alone.

 

“spontaneous,” the older man comments. 

 

“i’d like to think it’s romantic,” jongin retorts. he smirks a bit, challenging.

 

kungsoo narrows his eyes at him and raises one thick eyebrow. “there’s nothing romantic about a failed date.”

 

“oh,” jongin drawls. he raised their intertwined hands and kyungsoo stops in his tracks. the man’s eyes widen and jongin brings kyungsoo’s hand to his lip before brushing a simple kiss on the soft skin. “you haven’t let go of my hand the entire day.”

 

kyungsoo flushes a deep red and jongin giggles at the man’s reaction. the older male sputters and he tries to pull his hand away. jongin holds it even tighter and almost hugs it to his torso.

 

“i didn’t mean it as a complaint,” jongin says dryly. he adds, with a genuine grin and a soft voice, “i like it, actually.”

 

kyungsoo snorts but he doesn’t pull his hand away. “you’re really a romantic guy, kim jongin.”

 

jongin hums, “you only noticed?”

 

the older man shakes his head and shoots him a sharp stare. “i’ve noticed since, like, buenos aires.”

 

jongin laughs. “it’s not much of a secret. i believe in fate and destiny and, to a certain degree, soulmates.” he bumps his shoulder against kyungsoo’s as they continue walking. the houses slowly turn a little wider, with more windows. each piece of architecture looks like art coming to life with people living inside, like they’re part of some virtual interactive display.

 

jongin adds after a moment of seemingly contemplative silence, “isn’t it nice to think that you’re important enough for the universe to arrange a person just _for you_.”

 

kyungsoo tuts. “it’s all ego, then?”

 

the younger male laughs. “isn’t everything?” jongin takes two steps forward before he speaks up again. “everyone deserves a little romance now and then.”

 

“ah,” kyungsoo makes a soft sound. “i think i’m a little bit too jaded for romance.”

 

“you’re an artist!” jongin points out. “how can you live without some romance in your life? some _ludus._ ” he wiggles his eyebrows and continues with a smirk, “maybe lots of _eros_.”

 

kyungsoo snorts. “definitely not me.”

 

jongin makes a booing noise. “are you one of those morbid and dark types? the tortured soul?”

 

“no,” kyungsoo shakes his head with a giggle. “just because i don’t believe in falling in love with the same person every cycle doesn’t mean i advocate for tragedies and nihilism.”

 

a slight breeze drowns out kyungsoo’s words and jongin leans closer and reaches his free hand to fix kyungsoo’s beret. the man stills under his palm. the two of them continue walking towards the more expensive part of the street and the gouden bocht. everything here seems so beautiful, like they’re hiding secrets behind the inviting facades.

 

in a distance, jongin spots something that makes his heart race.

 

he turns to kyungsoo with bated breath and says, “hey, kyungsoo, what if i prove you wrong?”

 

the man removes his eyes from a particularly nice looking house. “yeah?”

 

jongin nods towards what he has spotted and there, a few meters from them, is a chalkboard with _cycle reader_ written in clean strokes with white chalk.

 

kyungsoo scowls. “there?”

 

jongin nods. “let’s ask them to read us.”

 

the older man’s face remains unimpressed. “really?”

 

“yes, really,” jongin enthuses. he squeezes kyungsoo’s hand and pouts just a tiny bit. 

 

the older man looks hesitant but he takes a deep breath and says, “fine.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

when jongin enters the small boutique, he notes how cold it is. kyungsoo lets go of his hand as he closes his leather jacket tighter around his torso and hugs himself close. jongin shivers and a small woman with bright red hair greets them with a pleasant smile in dutch. jongin asks if she can speak english and she seamlessly switches without further ado.

 

“here to see our cycle reader?” she asks. “you both at the same time?”

 

“yes,” jongin replies. “are they free?”

 

the receptionist nods and jongin books the short session with the reader. he pays the fee and glances at kyungsoo’s put-upon face. he can’t help but laugh at the older man’s disgruntled expression and when the receptionist disappears from their hearing range after they’re ushered into a narrow hall, kyungsoo turns to him with smirk and says, “this is all business, anyway.”

 

“maybe so,” jongin shrugs. “it doesn’t mean they’re wrong.” he pulls kyungsoo in front of the cherry red door and raps his knuckles twice. “just because a doctor asks for a fee doesn’t mean he’s a quack.”

 

kyungsoo frowns and it gets deeper when the feminine voice inside calls out a “come in!” in english.

 

“they know our dutch is shitty?” jongin asks, incredulous.

 

kyungsoo scoffs. “probably standard. we _are_ in amsterdam.”

 

jongin tilts his head to the side in acknowledgement. “i’d give you that.”

 

kyungsoo twists the door open and the two of them are welcomed inside a cozy looking room. it feels comfortable with the armchair and the table in front of a love seat. the reader is a woman with a shaved head and dark skin and she smiles at them, soft and closed mouthed, as she tells them to sit down.

 

“is it for the both of you or just one?” she says. her voice is deep and raspy, a little scratchy and lazy.

 

“both of us,” jongin swiftly replies. “we’d like to know if we’ve met in any of our previous lives.”

 

her smile turns indulgent. “the age old question in every relationship.” she eyes them both and jongin feels a tad uncomfortable at her intense gaze, the way she rakes her stare on kyungsoo and him, like she’s looking through instead of at. “most couples are afraid to ask that question.”

 

jongin shrugs. “we’re not most couples.”

 

he hears kyungsoo snort and jongin turns to the shorter man with an amused stare. he pats kyungsoo’s knee with his hand in reassurance.

 

“and i guess the little one here is skeptical of fate?” she asks, though it doesn’t sound much of a question.

 

jongin thinks kyungsoo’s going to retort that he’s not little but the older male just grits out, as polite as he can, “yes.”

 

the reader smiles and orders, “tell me your name. names are powerful in this business.”

 

the both of them introduce themselves and they even add their age and date of birth for good measure. the two of them turn to each other with wide eyes when they learn that their birthdays are only a day apart.

 

the reader hums and comments, “you have a new relationship.”

 

jongin turns to her and nods but he places his hand on top of kyungsoo’s knee. he curves his palm around it and fits it over the skin and bone.

 

she continues staring _through_ them and jongin eyes the way her spindly finger draws pattern on top of the table. with a soft voice, she asks, “this isn’t the first time your paths have crossed.”

 

jongin nods. “in buenos aires, we—”

 

“not what i meant, jongin,” she says with a patient smile. “i meant you’ve met in your other cycles. i’m only reading three of them. this makes it the fourth time.”

 

jongin’s jaw falls a little and he turns to kyungsoo. the man’s face is shuttered but one of his hands fall on top of jongin’s hand—the one resting on kyungsoo’s knee.

 

“can you tell us more?” kyungsoo asks, much to jongin’s surprise. 

 

“of course, kyungsoo,” she replies. “i can’t tell you everything but i can tell you enough.” she draws a circle on top of the table and a figure or a symbol that jongin doesn’t recognize. “you make a very pretty woman, kyungsoo.”

 

kyungsoo chokes and the reader laughs. “in your second cycle together, you’re born biologically female. you met jongin in the middle of—ah, there it is. the link.” she smiles even wider. “you met in korea during—i can’t say the exact year but it’s definitely before the european renaissance. jongin is a poet and a scholar for the king’s household and kyungsoo is—” she clicks her tongue. “kyungsoo’s the favorite concubine of the king.”

 

jongin gulps. “did it end badly?”

 

she nods. “you’re not much of an art person now, are you, jongin?”

 

jongin nods and she turns to kyungsoo with a knowing look. “and you are?”

 

kyungsoo replies softly, “yes.”

 

the reader gives them a head tilt. “it’s because of that cycle. the art from that cycle’s jongin remains with you, kyungsoo, but the art belonging to that jongin is a remembrance of what’s lost. that’s why you don’t like art now, jongin.”

 

jongin gapes. “all this because of a cycle?”

 

she laughs. “not all. sometimes it doesn’t really have an effect. sometimes it does. when the cycle connection is the strongest. you’re korean in both cycles.”

 

“and the other two?” jongin prompts, almost hurries her to spill everything.

 

“the first one,” the reader pauses, draws another pattern on the table. “the first one ends quietly. you’re both biologically males and i see both of you as young children. then, nothing.”

 

“nothing?” kyungsoo breathes out.

 

the woman shrugs. “it happens sometimes. when the two of you break your connection in that cycle.”

 

kyungsoo makes a soft _oh_ sound and plays with the back of jongin’s hand almost as if he’s also drawing patterns on the skin that way the reader is doing on top of her table.

 

“and the last one?”

 

“the last one,” she says solemnly. “you both die before you even introduce yourself.” she continues to stare and licks her bottom lip. her voice is eerie, jongin notices. “your eyes met and then there’s a head-on collision.”

 

this time, it’s jongin’s turn to gasp.

 

“all of our cycles together ended unhappily?” kyungsoo asks.

 

“not all.” she answers before pausing.

 

he reader looks at them. for a moment, jongin worries that she knows of his lie and his tattoo. she turns the same look at kyungsoo and the younger male wonders if she’ll tell the other man, if she’ll confess jongin’s biggest sin. but instead, he face clears up and she smiles at them, it looks genuine and encouraging.

 

“you still have this one cycle.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

they get out of the reader’s boutique to find that the sky has already turned dark. kyungsoo asks if they can still browse around the city and jongin puts google to good use as they start visiting the more eccentric stores tucked into narrow buildings with chipping paint or exposed brick.

 

when jongin next checks his watch, there’s four hours and not enough minutes left before midnight. he’s not even sure what time kyungsoo and him will part ways and the moment the older male suggests dinner, he thinks everything is close to being over.

 

they find a restaurant that’s not too expensive and both of them order pasta to eat al fresco. jongin gets himself sweet iced tea but kyungsoo asks for a glass of light red with his dinner.

 

“did you enjoy today, kyungsoo?” jongin asks. he twirls pasta around his fork and brings it up to his mouth. the white wine in the sauce bursts inside his mouth alongside the salty taste of the sea.

 

kyungsoo nods. “yeah. i did.” there’s red sauce on the corner of his lips and jongin extends his arm and wipes the offending sauce with his thumb. kyungsoo freezes under the brush of his skin but he doesn’t complain when jongin swipes it with the pad of his finger. jongin licks the sauce and hums.

 

“tastes good,” he jokes.

 

kyungsoo laughs and with it, violin strings start to be plucked. jongin cranes his head and, a few feet away, he finds an old man sitting on a stool and picking notes out of the length of his guitar and making the instrument sing.

 

the older male grins shyly as he looks down. “the reader is interesting.”

 

jongin’s eyebrows rise. “and i’m the romantic?”

 

“i didn’t say anything,” kyungsoo defends. “it’s interesting.” his mouth twitches before it twists down. “it sounds fake though.”

 

“fake how?” jongin asks.

 

“she knows we’re a couple,” kyungsoo explains. he takes a bite of his pasta and chews carefully before continuing. “most couples will want to hear a validation of their relationship—and a validation of themselves. that they’re making the right choice. you said it before, it’s all about ego.”

 

“interesting opinion,” jongin drawls. he takes a sip of his iced tea and adds with something akin to trepidation, “what if we leave the cycles out of this. no more marks on wrists. do you still think everything is a coincidence.” he quirks one eyebrow up, challenging and daring. “what if we only think of these collection of moments—no more repeated encounters or soulmates or whatever. still coincidence?”

 

kyungsoo takes a small drink of his wine before he replies, “yes. it’s all—i wouldn’t say useless or meaningless—but thinking about fate means you’re thinking of the bigger picture. you don’t live in the moment but the collection of it.”

 

“so you like the present.” jongin nods before an idea gets into his head—maybe it’s curiosity, or the masochism. “then if this will be your last _present_ , what will you do?”

 

kyungsoo pauses and he looks at jongin with wide eyes. “like, if this is my last cycle?”

 

jongin nods and doesn’t take his eyes away from kyungsoo. he watches as the older man looks down and his hand tightens around his spoon. he grips it hard that his knuckles press against his soft skin harshly.

 

after a moment, kyungsoo says, “i’d do something crazy.”

 

“like what?” jongin follows up.

 

kyungsoo grins. “like agree to go on a date with an almost stranger in a city i’ve never been a tourist in.”

 

jongin returns the smile, all cheek and twinkling eyes. “you must be even crazier.” he nods towards kyungsoo. he holds the smile despite the growing weight in his chest. “this isn’t your last life and yet, you’re here with me.”

 

kyungsoo pauses at that before his smile drops. jongin’s about to apologize if he’s somehow offensive but the older man takes a drink of his light red before he says idly, “you’re doing the same thing.”

 

jongin waggles his index finger and makes clicking noises inside his mouth.“ah, ah, ah. i never claimed to hate a little craziness in my life. in fact—” he grins now, more whole and more himself. “how about a dance with me?”

 

kyungsoo looks f loored as jongin stands up. the guitar strings are still filtering in the air, fast tempo and heartbeat racing. 

 

“what.”

 

“you heard me, kyungsoo.” jongin offers his hand to kyungsoo. he swallows the lump in his throat. “think of this as both of our last cycles—our last lives. in the middle of amsterdam, we’re no ones. nobody knows who we are. we can get away with a little bit of insanity.”

 

kyungsoo hesitates still and jongin says, “you mentioned waltz before in you letter.”

 

the older male stares at him. “you remember?”

 

jongin grins. “i have the letter tucked inside my wallet as a reminder.”

 

“you did that?” jongin sees kyungsoo slowly stand up and he nods. he takes kyungsoo’s hand before he pulls him to the old man playing his instrument.

 

jongin bends down a bit and asks in a low voice, “will you play something my date and i can dance waltz to?”

 

the man looks at jongin quizzically and then, to their joined hands. waltz seems to be one of those words that everyone instantly recognizes in its most authentic. the man stands up and gives them both a nod.

 

jongin can feel the stares of everyone—the patrons of the restaurant, the passers-by, the people behind the glass windows of the stores. kyungsoo is looking down at the ground and he is reminded of buenos aires and tango music.

 

the memory is so vivid that jongin feels like he can taste the beats of the orchestra coming out the speakers. he positions the both of them in a close hug and he rubs his hand up and down kyungsoo’s waist in comfort.

 

“follow me,” he orders. the guitar violin begins in rhythm. “quick, quick, slow.” he counts the beat as he sways kyungsoo around with ease. the man moves his feet and even moves his body wth the music.

 

“now,” jongin says. “you have to look at me.”

 

kyungsoo does and he breaks into a wide smile. jongin does the same, unwilling to stop himself.

 

“that’s not so hard, isn’t it?” jongin comments. “a little crazy is good for everyone. it makes life more exciting.”

 

kyungsoo nods and the smile playing on his lips doesn’t come down.

 

jongin says, “you look happy.”

 

kyungsoo replies, “i am.”

 

“i’m glad you are.”

 

kyungsoo leans his head against jongin’s shoulders as their feet move together in sync. he whispers, “it’s a yes now, jongin.”

 

jongin hums. “what’s a yes now?”

 

kyungsoo chuckles. “that strong maybe awhile ago—if i felt that click. feeling it. it’s a definite yes now.” 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“it’s midnight,” kyungsoo says as they walk down the streets.

 

jongin laughs. “do you have to leave? like cinderella?”

 

the older man bumps their shoulders together but jongin catches kyungsoo’s hand. he holds it firmly on his side and he looks down, finds kyungsoo staring back at him. he raises his eyebrows as if it’s some challenge and instead of fighting, kyungsoo intertwines their fingers and fits his fingers in between jongin’s.

 

jongin looks up at the dark sky. “i want to spend more time with you.”

 

“you can,” kyungsoo replies. “my flight doesn’t leave until one in the afternoon tomorrow—or today.”

 

jongin sighs, “you know what i mean.”

 

kyungsoo frowns, his eyebrows furrowed. there’s a lump stuck in jongin’s throat. 

 

the taller male swings their connected hands back and forth. “then let’s stay up.”

 

kyungsoo raises their hands and jongin rests it on kyungsoo’s hip. kyungsoo’s hugging himself and jongin presses themselves even closer. their feet walk in sync on the cobblestone path.

 

“there’s not much to do,” kyungsoo replies. “i think most shops are closed. unless you want to go clubbing?”

 

jongin makes a face. “no clubbing.”

 

kyungsoo giggles. his thumb rubs on the skin on the back of jongin’s hand. “you’re not the type of person to go to clubs?”

 

the younger man makes another face. “maybe? i like dancing.”

 

“there’s not much dancing in clubs though,” kyungsoo groans. “it’s all noise and grinding.”

 

jongin snorts. “remember when you told me how you’d dance with me if we met in a club?”

 

kyungsoo sputters at that and jongin glances to the side to see the way kyungsoo’s round cheeks become full with a bright red flush. 

 

“i said that in the heat of the moment!” kyungsoo defended himself.

 

jongin cannot help but chuckle and bury his face on the side of kyungsoo’s face. he nudges the older man’s beret so he reaches his free hand to fix it on top of kyungsoo’s head.

 

“so that’s a heated moment,” jongin teases back, patting the beret before pulling his hand away. the two of them continue walking. the leather soles of their shoes ring amidst the empty streets.

 

“shut up,” kyungsoo retorts and then, “where are we going, jongin?”

 

jongin chuckles darkly before he leans down, muttering low and deep, “well, kyungsoo, you went with a stranger in amsterdam.” he smirks. “i’m actually a part of an organized crime ring and we’re going to sell you into sex work.”

 

the taller man kisses kyungsoo on the shell of his ear before kissing the strip of skin down. kyungsoo shivers but manages to reply a sharp, “ha ha ha. that’s funny, kim jongin.”

 

jongin pouts. “you’re lucky i’m not an evil bastard, kyungsoo.”

 

“i suppose i am fortunate.” kyungsoo snickers. “and don’t lie—you’re not so much of a stranger to me now.”

 

jongin grins. “less than 24 hours and you already know who i am?”

 

kyungsoo bumps their shoulders together. “not really. but we all start somewhere, right?”

 

jongin glances at their intertwined hands resting on kyungsoo’s hipbone. he whispers, “right.”

 

the smaller man nods to himself and asks again, “so—where are we going? one more place, maybe?”

 

jongin’s eyes gravitate to the pout of kyungsoo’s plush lips and he says, “i have somewhere in mind.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“what is this place?” kyungsoo asks cheekily. 

 

they’re standing in front of a narrow building facing one of the canals after they’ve walked around aimlessly for another hour. the hands on jongin’s watch points to the one and two. at ten minutes past one in the morning, the streets are practically deserted.

 

“let’s go inside,” jongin says. 

 

the two of them pushes the front door and jongin leads kyungsoo to the narrow staircase. he nudges kyungsoo to go up and the older male looks back at him with exaggerated fear.

 

“you’re not really part of an organized crime group, are you, jongin?” kyungsoo’s voice mockingly trembles. 

 

jongin snorts, “we’re at my apartment building. i live on the fourth floor.”

 

kyungsoo laughs before he takes a step on the stairs. jongin reaches for kyungsoo’s hand again and the older male fits their fingers between each other’s spaces. jongin’s other hand is secure on kyungsoo’s waist, guiding and providing warmth.

 

the two of them take their time and jongin can hear kyungsoo giggling. 

 

“the staircase is so—what’s the word?—little? cramped?”

 

“cramped,” jongin offers. he watches his step and kyungsoo’s. “narrow?”

 

kyungsoo makes a noise on the back of his throat. “narrow! yes.”

 

jongin hushes him, chuckling. “you have to be quiet! other people live here.”

 

kyungsoo turns back at him with a sheepish smile, biting his lower lip. “sorry.”

 

jongin shakes his head and they trek upwards until the fourth floor. jongin’s apartment is the first one beside the stairs and he feels disappointment and longing when he disentangles their hands to fish his keys out of his pocket.

 

he pushes it inside the lock and twists the knob open. when he pushes the door, he nudges kyungsoo to go inside.

 

“come in,” he says. “sorry it’s a little small.”

 

he turns the lights on, closing the door. he watches, almost freezing up, when kyungsoo starts shedding his boots. the older male places it against the wall and jongin toes his own leather shoes off. they both shrug their jackets off of their shoulders and kyungsoo tugs his beret away from his head before he plops it on top of jongin’s hair.

 

“you look ridiculous,” kyungsoo giggles. 

 

“i’m not chic enough,” jongin replies mournfully. he removes the beret and takes kyungsoo’s leather jacket and hangs everthing on his door.

 

kyungsoo giggles even more and jongin doesn’t really know what’s funny except kyungsoo’s inside his studio apartment in amsterdam when a couple of days ago, he thinks they’ll never meet again after one night in buenos aires.

 

the older man walks around jongin’s place. there’s not much too see—jongin has a bed pushed into a the wall. he has a second-hand navy blue couch and a coffee table. there are books stacked on top of each other on the floor and there’s a table in front of the window with an old radio.

 

“does this work?” kyungsoo stands up and walks towards the radio. 

 

jongin nods. “the old tenant left that here. it only plays like—three music stations and one news station but.” he shrugs.

 

kyungsoo claps his hands and he bends down to inspect the thing. it’s not battery operated so the older man has to plug it to an electric socket. he pulls the antennae and switches through channels.

 

he settles into one when jongin tells him, “stop. this station plays good music.”

 

kyungsoo raises his eyebrows. “really?”

 

“yeah. sometimes english songs, sometimes dutch. more european music, i think. most of them old,” jongin replies. he plops down on the bed and closes his eyes. “come to bed.”

 

he hears kyungsoo hesitate. “i’m not sleeping together with you.”

 

jongin hums. “we don’t have to have sex or anything.” he opens his eyes. “i didn’t bring you here for a quick fuck.”

 

kyungsoo snorts. “there’s nothing quick about your fucking.”

 

jongin pokes his tongue out. “oh? i can do it quick if you want.”

 

the shorter man scowls. “no sex. i’m leaving for paris tomorrow.”

 

jongin nods. “no sex, kyungsoo. just come to bed.”

 

it must have been tempting because kyungsoo eyes him with envy before he says, “can i borrow clothes?”

 

“are you staying the night?” jongin asks.

 

kyungsoo nods. “i can just wake up tomorrow and go back to my brother’s place.”

 

jongin stands up from the bed. “i have a bathtub.”

 

the older man’s face seems to sparkle at that. “you have?”

 

“yes,” jongin replies giddily. he goes to his clothes drawer and roos for unused underwear. he crinkles his nose and says, “do you mind using boxers i already used?”

 

“gross,” kyungsoo groans but adds, “i don’t really have a choice.”

 

jongin grins at him, “you can leave.”

 

kyungsoo shakes his head. “you don’t want me to leave.”

 

the taller male nods and he grabs a pair that he remembers he’s only used once. it’s too small for him to fit.

 

“how do you sleep?” he asks.

 

kyungsoo, the little shit, replies, “with my eyes closed.”

 

jongin shoots the older male a glare and kyungsoo giggles, answering, “just a shirt, please. i hate wearing pants to sleep.”

 

he grabs one of his older shirts, soft and well-used. jongin takes underwear and black sweats for himself. kyungsoo notices and he clicks his tongue.

 

“of course you don’t sleep with a shirt on.”

 

jongin grins but he ushers kyungsoo inside the bathroom. kyungsoo brings the lid of the toilet down with a scowl as he sits on top of it. jongin turns the faucet on and manages the temperature of the water. the older man watches him as jongin putters around. he gets two towels from the cabinet beneath the sink, placing their change of clothes with them on the counter.

 

“do you have bubbles, jongin?” kyungsoo asks. jongin turns to the older man and he finds him sitting with his legs crossed, one elbow resting on his knee and his hand supporting his chin. he looks lazy and relaxed and jongin’s heart stutters, maybe gives up completely.

 

“i’ll look for one,” he replies, turning away. his face is burning. he peeks inside the bathroom cabinet and finds a sample bottle. he hands it towards kyungsoo.

 

“roses,” the other man reads out loud. “romantic.”

 

“you don't like romance.” jongin grins. “i can light some candles if you want.”

 

kyungsoo shakes his head. “maybe you can increase the volume of the radio outside? and keep the door open.”

 

jongin nods and fulfills kyungsoo’s request. he takes the volume two notches higher and when he returns to the bathroom, he finds kyungsoo shedding his pants and pouring the bubbles in the bath. the tub is a little small and it fills up in no time. 

 

kyungsoo removes his clothes and jongin follows suit. the older man stands there, naked, as his eyes go to the tub and towards jongin.

 

“what?” jongin asks, self conscious. he’s still in his boxers.

 

“will we fit together?”

 

jongin thinks for a moment before he shrugs. “we will,” he replies. he takes his underwear off and says, “i’ll get in first.”

 

he squeezes beside kyungsoo and steps into the bathtub. he sinks into the warm water and it rises with his weight. he pushes himself to sit properly before he straightens his legs. the length of it spans almost the entire tub and his toes brush the porcelain.

 

“get in,” he says. 

 

he holds kyungsoo as the man climbs in the tub. kyungsoo settles himself in between jongin’s legs and leans on the younger male’s broad chest. with a sigh, kyungsoo sinks and relaxes fully.

 

jongin wraps both his hands around kyungsoo’s middle, massaging the skin under the water. kyungsoo makes a noise of appreciation and the fatigue of the day catches up to the two of them. the music filters into the bathroom and the two of them stay inside quietly with no words shared between them.

 

jongin doesn’t know how long they stay there but the water turns cold and he urges kyungsoo up for a quick wash. the man looks dead on his feet and he pushes him up when they finish. he gets the towel to dry them off and kyungsoo drags it all over his body tiredly. he hands kyungsoo his clothes as he dresses himself and when he turns around, he sees kyungsoo rubbing his eyes and wearing his oversized shirt.

 

he reaches for the older man’s hand and leads them back to the bed. kyungsoo falls face first and he rolls over to give jongin space. jongin lies on his back and kyungsoo moves to sink himself in his warmth. 

 

his mouth quickly finds jongin’s lion tattoo, kissing the skin, and jongin returns the gesture with a peck dropped on kyungsoo’s head. his other hand is tracing aimless patterns on kyungsoo’s bare thigh. 

 

“sleepy?” he asks.

 

kyungsoo nods. he presses his feet in between jongin’s legs and he complains, “cold.”

 

jongin grins and he pries kyungsoo away from him. “want some socks?”

 

the older male smiles sleepily. “yes, please.”

 

jongin stands up and goes to his dressing cabinet. he pulls out one of the drawers and tries to find the thickest pair he can. the only ones fuzzy and long enough are not pairs but he figures kyungsoo won’t mind if he’s wearing a black sock on his left feet and a bear printed one on the other.

 

“kyungsoo,” he says as he pads to the entryway. “can you turn the lamp on? i’ll turn the light bulb off.”

 

he laughs when kyungsoo groans but the older man obeys. jongin flicks the light off and he carefully makes his way back to the bed. he kneels on kyungsoo’s feet and the other man doesn’t protest when he grabs his foot. 

 

jongin massages it between his hands before he puts the sock. he pulls it up to rest almost halfway kyungsoo’s calf and does the same for the other foot.

 

when he’s done, he clambers over to lie beside kyungsoo and the older man immediately snuggles beside him. jongin plays with kyungsoo’s hair while small fingers dance over the pattern on jongin’s chest.

 

“you really like my tattoo,” he comments. “in buenos aires, you’re also taken with it.”

 

kyungsoo nods against jongin and replies, “i like the lion and the flames.” he traces the curve of the fire before asking, “does it mean anything?”

 

jongin snorts. “it looked cool so i got it. does that count?”

 

“boo. i was kind of expecting you to have some very deep meaning behind your chest tattoo,” kyungsoo chuckles softly.

 

“sorry to disappoint you, kyungsoo,” jongin laughs as well.

 

after a moment, the older man says slowly, “give me one last answer, jongin.”

 

jongin raises his eyebrow and kyungsoo’s eyes meet his. 

 

“your apartment counts as a place i visit.”

 

jongin shrugs and replies, “okay.” he tilts his head to kyungsoo’s direction. “give me one last question.”

 

“have you been honest the entire time?”

 

kyungsoo hums and the music from the radio is drowned by the sound. jongin pretends to think about what he’ll say but he already knows what it is. he already knows what his last confession will be the moment they play this game.

 

“i’m sorry,” he says. “no, i was not.”

 

“what for?” kyungsoo asks.

 

“for lying,” he answers simply. 

 

“about?” kyungsoo sounds so calm and peaceful.

 

“i won’t have dances reserved for you in my next lives.”

 

kyungsoo shoots up at that and jongin chases the man’s warmth. kyungsoo’s eyes are wild and wide open.

 

“what do you mean?” he sounds a little hysterical.

 

“i meant exactly that,” jongin says. his eyes never leave kyungsoo. “i’ve been trying to find someone who’s exactly like me—on their last cycle. last chance.”

 

kyungsoo gapes at him. “but you have four petals left.”

 

jongin smiles—sad and small. “it’s fairly easy to get someone to draw it permanently, you know? i got it for cheap when i had the lion done.”

 

kyungsoo sighs before he lies back down again. jongin holds him close. his heart thunders in his chest, erratic and out of rhythm. kyungsoo can feel it, for sure. jongin hugs the older man into himself and if this is the last time, he wants to savor every moment.

 

it’s a dream that lasts for twenty four hours and jongin will take it—will take it because this is probably the only way he gets to have kyungsoo. in a few hours, he has to be in a plane to paris and jongin has to continue his life living like this hasn’t happened. 

 

two almost strangers played around by fate, in jongin’s words; two almost strangers thrown into a series of coincidences, kyungsoo will say. 

 

he’s not even sure if kyungsoo will reply to his messages, or if this is some once in a lifetime experience, like magic. technically, they’re nothing but one night stands—two nights maybe, if jongin counts amsterdam.

 

“your turn, baby,” he pulls himself out of his thoughts and reminds the older man. “don’t fall asleep on me yet.”

 

kyungsoo makes a noise and he turns a bit so jongin’s holding him close. the song playing changes and kyungsoo moves to kiss jongin’s jaw.

 

“i also have a tattoo.”

 

jongin frowns. “i’ve seen you naked. where is—” he gapes. he almost pushes kyungsoo away to look at him but kyungsoo tightens his hold and buries his face on the side of jongin’s neck.

 

with a watery voice, he says—repeats, “it’s fairly easy to get someone to draw it permanently.”

 

jongin cranes his neck to kiss kyungsoo’s temple. once. twice. thrice. he asks, “do you still think this is all coincidence?”

 

kyungsoo doesn’t answer.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin wakes up in stages, slowly coming out of his sleep. he stirs and sits up, eyes still closed. he feels the almost fading warmth on the bed beside him and every memory comes rushing back. it feels like déjà vu.

 

the radio from last night, or early morning, is still playing. jongin doesn’t recognize the song but from the way it slowly fades, it’s almost over.

 

he doesn’t open his eyes and he steels himself—for the heartbreak maybe, the disappointment.

 

“kyungsoo?” he calls out.

 

there’s a moment of silence and jongin’s heart drops from his chest to his stomach. he sits up on the bed, back against the headboard—

 

“yes?” the familiar deep voice echoes within the walls of his tiny apartment.

 

jongin snaps his eyes wide and turns to the direction of the voice. he sees kyungsoo standing near the window, idly swinging his hips to the end notes of the song. he’s wearing jongin’s shirt and nothing else. the hem falls on the tops of his thighs, the neckline too wide for his narrow shoulders. on his feet are jongin’s socks, mismatched and fuzzy.

 

he’s holding a bitten apple and jongin’s bright yellow bear mug. on top of the saucer beside the radio, there’s a used tea bag.

 

the sunlight pours in trickles, paints the large expanse of kyungsoo’s skin with glimmering patterns.

 

jongin’s heart jumps in his chest before it soars.

 

“good morning, jongin,” kyungsoo says. the music changes and michael buble’s _sway_ plays. the song’s beginning notes erupt out of the tiny radio speakers and kyungsoo moves his torso to the left, then to the right. he takes a bite out of the apple and sips his mug of tea.

 

he sets both down and he pads towards jongin slowly. he turns around on the tips of his toes and jongin watches kyungsoo like a dream—something he never wants to wake up from.

 

“this is one of my favorite songs,” he comments. he pulls the blanket out of jongin’s frame and rakes his eyes on the younger male’s exposed torso. jongin is only wearing a pair of black sweatpants and no shirt on.

 

he climbs half into the bed and he starts mouthing with the song before he fully sings every line. 

 

he’s almost on jongin’s lap and he whisper-sings, “ _other dancers may be on the floor. dear, but my eyes will see only you._ ” kyungsoo drags the word, holds the note in between his plush lips. he sounds husky. the shirt rides up his pale thighs. 

 

the older man smirks. “ _only you have that magic technique._ ” his index finger trails from jongin’s chest down to the ridges of his abs. jongin gulps and kyungsoo hooks his finger on the band of jongin’s sweats. “ _when we sway i go weak._ ”

 

kyungsoo reaches for his hands and he tugs him upward. like gravity, jongin quickly follows. he figures this must have been what it feels like to exist in an orbit, to revolt around a single entity—helpless and boneless. 

 

jongin stands up with the other man and kyungsoo leads the two of them near the radio. he's dancing out of beat, swaying his hips to the low notes and the drags of sounds. his feet are gliding in small distances, stepping in and out and crossing. he grabs the mug of tea again and offers it to jongin.

 

jongin accepts the drink and finds it lukewarm already. he shrugs and takes a sip, finding the earl grey a little too sweet.

 

“i found some packets of white sugar in your pantry.” kyungsoo beams at him before he adds, apropos of nothing. “i feel like doing something crazy today—one last cycle.” 

 

jongin makes a face and he sticks his tongue out after drinking. he asks, “crazier than going out with an almost stranger in amsterdam?”

 

kyungsoo just laughs at him as he takes the cup again. it makes a sound when he sets it on top of the wooden table.

 

“yup,” he says, popping the p with a pout of his plush mouth. “crazier than that. much, much crazier.”

 

“like what?” jongin humors the older man.

 

“like staying for a bit with the almost stranger in amsterdam.”

 

jongin’s heart skips a beat, maybe two.

 

kyungsoo snakes his arms over jongin’s shoulders and he links his hands on the taller man’s nape. jongin, out of instinct and want and need, places his hands on kyungsoo’s waist. he rubs it up and down, slow and deliberate—making sure this is kyungsoo in front of him, real and whole and _here_.

 

“well, you’re still in that almost stranger’s apartment,” jongin says after a second of silence. the song continues on and kyungsoo nods.

 

“that i am,” he replies.

 

jongin tightens his hold on kyungsoo’s hips and the man hugs him close. it's hard to dance when there’s barely any distance between them. jongin doesn’t really mind. 

 

he hears kyungsoo softly sing against his skin, “ _when marimba rhythms start to play, dance with me, make me sway._ ” his nose finds the line of jongin’s jaw and he traces the length of it, skin kissing skin. “ _like a lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close, sway me more._ ”

 

jongin glances at the clock mounted on his wall. kyungsoo has to leave for paris. 

 

“you’re going to miss your flight.”

 

kyungsoo stops and he looks up at jongin. the sunlight streams and hits his face, illuminating every curve and every feature. jongin wants to look at this for hours, maybe for the rest of his life. he wants to memorize every imperfection of this man.

 

he kisses jongin on the mouth. it’s chaste and quick, innocent and sweet and loving, exactly like the older man himself. 

 

kyungsoo smiles at him then, slow and perfect—heart-shaped and heart-stoppingly beautiful. he hums. “maybe it’s meant to be.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> loosely inspired by before sunrise and before sunset. thanks for reading. please leave comments and kudos.


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